PERHAPS they are pearls from the robe of the Night, With their lustre all dimmed by the day; Perhaps they are pillows where shining heads rest When the fairies are weary of play. Perhaps they are sea-spray the Spring Wind has flung, With a laugh, to the green goddess, June; Perhaps they're the ghosts of the soft silver light That has strayed from the land of the Moon. Or, perhaps, after all, they are just bits of down, From the wings of an angel who passed— Soft grey Pussy-willows that come in the Spring, Have I solved your sweet secret at last? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIRGE FOR MCPHERSON; KILLED IN FRONT OF ATLANTA by HERMAN MELVILLE SONNET: 45 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ERRING IN COMPANY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO A FRIEND by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AUTUMN by JESSIE ALBERT BARNEY |