FIERCE burns our fire of driftwood; over-head Gaunt maples lift long arms against the night; The stars are sobbing, -- sorrow-shaken, white, And high they hang, or show sad eyes grown red With weeping for their queen, -- the moon, just dead. Black shadows backward reel when tall and bright The broad flames stand and fling a golden light On mats of soft green moss around us spread. A sudden breeze comes in from off the sea, The vast, old forest draws a troubled breath, A leaf awakens; up the shore of sand The slow tide, silver-lipped, creeps noiselessly; The campfire dies; then silence deep as death; The darkness pushing down upon the land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOMEBODY'S DARLING by MARIE LA CONTE PROMETHEUS BOUND: PROMETHEUS THE TEACHER OF MEN by AESCHYLUS THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 38. AL-KABIR by EDWIN ARNOLD A NAMELESS EPITAPH (2) by MATTHEW ARNOLD ELIJAH AND THE PRIESTS OF BAAL: IN A TIME OF FAMINE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE EURIPIDES by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |