The twilight hangs like smoke in the streets, Pearly, veiling all the stretches in illusion; And the new-lit lamps are the glow of hearts That grope unseeing and unseen. At the corner a lean young girl offers me lavender, Offers me youth and romance to hold in my palm, closed -- thus. She gives dreams to the world, She who knows nought of dreams -- Gives gardens, and waters, and the young shy moon Hung in the laurels; Gives the smoke of evening in the willows, And the complaining stream, And the lavender's subtle reawakening of old, dead thoughts. These, all these she gives, this lean girl -- (A shawl is over her head and her eyes look into the darkness). What does @3she@1 know of dreams? How more happy is she than I who have dreamed, And may dream no more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NET TO SNARE THE MOONLIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE HARVEST by EVA K. ANGLESBURG BALLADE OF MYSELF AND MONSIEUR RABELAIS by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) TO HIS EXCELLENCY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES REMARKS ON A PAMPHLET ENTITLED, EPISTLES TO THE GREAT by JOHN BYROM GOUGAUNE BARRA by JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN |