Purpled to softness comes the twilight hour, Out of the travail of the feverish day, Soothing the hot, quickened breath with the power Of Gilead's balm to ease the sinner's way. Girt with the memories of a kindred time, Pensive I sit beneath the summer sky, Dreaming of love that fires my feeble rhyme, Longing for words to clothe the old-time cry. Passion that wings me to forgotten years, Give to my heart this flame of mad desire, Send to my dreams from out the anguished tears Words that shall breathe of an immortal fire! O, but to sing an unforgetting chord— Better it is than wield the conqueror's sword. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINDING BANKS OF ERNE; OR, THE EMIGRANT'S ADIEU TO HIS BIRTHPLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE LAWYER'S WAYS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE THE SAD MOTHER by KATHARINE TYNAN THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE TWO MICE by AESOP SONNET: TO L.T. IN FLORENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |