MOONSWEET the summer evening locks The lips of babbling day: Mournfully, most mournfully Light dies away. There the yew, the solitary, Vaults a deeper melancholy, As from distant bells Chance music wells From the browsing-bells. Thus they dingle, thus they chime, While the woodlark's dimpling rings In the dim air climb; In the dim and dewy loneness Where the woodlark sings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON ODE TO TRANQUILLITY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 4. AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE by MARK AKENSIDE THE LAST MAN: A RUFFIAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE SONG OF THE SOWER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT CINQUAIN: OLD SHOES by KENNETH CHING |