UNDER the yew-tree's heavy weight The owls stand in their sullen fashions, Like Pagan gods of Pagan passions They dart their eyes and meditate. Unmoving they stare with living flame Until the end of the melancholy Hour sees the oblique sun set in folly, And darkness falls in shades of shame. Their aspect to the wise man teaches All that he needs, all he beseeches, Tumult and change and discontent; The man drunk of a shadow that passes Keeps always the imperishable scent That makes the wind change and the grasses. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE ROMAN ROAD by THOMAS HARDY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 54 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE THREE ENEMIES by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK; 1658 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE BURIED FLOWER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |