WHEN the dumb Hour, clothed in black, Brings the Dreams about my bed, Call me not so often back, Silent Voices of the dead, Toward the lowland ways behind me, And the sunlight that is gone! Call me rather, silent voices, Forward to the starry track Glimmering up the heights beyond me On, and always on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY NATURAL; WRITTEN IN GERMANY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO MY HONORED FRIEND SIR ROBERT HOWARD by JOHN DRYDEN WITH MY CIGAR by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY THE LORELEI by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE YOUTH AND AGE by GEORGE ARNOLD ON THE PRAIRIE by HERBERT BATES POET FLAYS TEMPTATIONS OF CITY LIFE by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP |