WHEN I stepped homeward to my hill Dusk went before with quiet tread; The bare laced branches of the trees Were as a mist about its head. Upon its leaf-brown breast, the rocks Like great grey sheep lay silent-wise; Between the birch trees' gleaming arms, The faint stars trembled in the skies. The white brook met me half-way up And laughed as one that knew me well, To whose more clear than crystal voice The frost had joined a crystal spell. The skies lay like pale-watered deep. Dusk ran before me to its strand And cloudily leaned forth to touch The moon's slow wonder with her hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER A LECTURE ON KEATS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES BANTAMS IN PINE-WOODS by WALLACE STEVENS IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 101 by ALFRED TENNYSON MEADOW-SAFFRON by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE ELLEN BRINE OV ALLENBURN by WILLIAM BARNES |