The last white star is hung against the sky And the hills lie Crouched on the silent earth, and stark trees stand Ghost gibbets on the land. Frost is like silver flame, or sullen rime In the moon's time. Spread on a hill's dark breast, a brooding farm Sleeps still and warm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SESTINA: ALTAFORTE by EZRA POUND MANHATTAN ARMING by WALT WHITMAN NOVEMBER, 1806 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE THIRD CANTO, OR FULL MOON by WILLIAM BASSE ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AND JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT by WILLIAM BLAKE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 26 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FEMININE TALK by MAXWELL BODENHEIM CARCASSONNE (SUGGESTED BY LORD DUNSANY'S STORY) by BERTON BRALEY |