EASTWARD the valley of my soul was lit This morning: now the West hath laid Upon its fields the festal robe, And East hath shade. Full soon the night shall fit Her star-besprinkled serge On hill, and rock, and bay; But even then behind the mounting globe God makes a verge Of dawn that shall be day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE by EMILY DICKINSON ODE TO ETHIOPIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLAD by FRANCOIS VILLON THE WEAVER'S APPRENTICE by AL-RUSAFI WOMEN'S WAR THOUGHTS by MARY HUNTER AUSTIN |