Like a bell note shivered into fragments of fine sound: The summer night. But silence and the stillness do astound Me more than all this strange-go-round Of multitudinously minted chords along the ground. This is an edifice of silence, vast: Into the chinks of silence sound will creep A little while -- and fall asleep, Its strength being spent and past. They say the crickets sing all night: I know They strike against the walls of silence, Insistently, a futile blow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GONE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE PILGRIM FATHERS by JOHN PIERPONT WHITE HEAD by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN AMBITION by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TWO ROBBERS by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: ROOT AND LEAF by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |