Sun-light recedes on the mountains, in long gold shafts, Like the falling pillars of a temple. Then singing silence almost too nimble for ears: The mountain-tenors fling their broad voices Into the blue hall of the sky, And through a rigid column of these voices Night dumbly walks. Night, crushing sound between his fingers Until it forms a lightly frozen couch On which he dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAFFODILS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ROMEO AND JULIET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 31 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT IN AN AEROPLANE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE DAY THAT I HAVE LOVED by RUPERT BROOKE |