THEY are so dark, the cedars, They keep so still a house! Muffled in purple silence They fold their brooding boughs. Yet they are shaped like music When the heart listens most! They are the wind's brave gesture, The singing river's ghost. And twilight in their branches Is murmurous and cool Like strings of water falling Into a waiting pool. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NORTHERN SUBURB by JOHN DAVIDSON THE CLOUD by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK; 1658 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE COWARD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA VERSES DESIGNED TO BE SENT TO MR. ADAMS by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST TOM JONES by JAMES HAY BEATTIE EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN SMYTH, CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |