EVENING DIM grows the wood; the amber evening tints Merge into opal skies and stars just seen; Down vistas gloomed and winding there are hints Of elves and gnomes along the mosses green. MIDNIGHT A holy song the thrush has distant-sung; The treetops murmur like some dreaming sea; Hark! far away a silvern bell has rung Twelve strokes, slow tolled, that faint and fade from me. MORNING A shaft of gold upon my upturned face As fleeting and as shy as any fawn; Sweet odors, stirring winds and forms of grace; Now tell me, is this heaven, or is it dawn? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS A SUPPLEMENT OF AN IMPERFECT COPY OF VERSES OF MR. WILL. SHAKESPEARE'S by JOHN SUCKLING TO A FOIL'D EUROPEAN REVOLUTIONAIRE by WALT WHITMAN WHY DRINK WINE by HENRY ALDRICH |