ALONG the lifted line of sombre green The sunset bonfire calms in golden space, The one hedge oak against the splendour seen Like a squat idol grossly stares at grace. The white star's come, no witness saw it come, The music is the night in reed and thorn; The young bird doubts and stirs, then nestles home, That winged dew rustles on. O Vesper-born, Stiff-necked I stand like that hewn knotty tree, As if heaven were my halo! Your dim span Seemed scarce from fern to wildbriar; but began And died? Your moment was infinity. I bowed not, trembled not; as though I were The carven botch of an idolater. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH AN ALBUM by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON A SONNET. ON THE DEATH OF SYLVIA by PHILIP AYRES EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 3. THE VOLUNTARY PRISONER by PHILIP AYRES ON THE AMOROUS AND PATHETIC STORY OF ARCADIUS AND SEPHA by L. B. THE RIVER-GOD'S SONG by FRANCIS BEAUMONT A DIALOGUE (TO BE SUNG TO THE VIOL, BY A BASE, AND A TREBLE) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 15 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |