There are long silences where lost winds blow Upon these Loma altars of the sun; And when small winds with seafaring are done, There are deep paths the feet of evening know. The sudden stars of evening on tiptoe As if the wistful dreams of Time had run Into the night forever, one by one, Through Loma's lonely violet canyons go. Past Pio Pico swift ships lift and glide Into our channel, into port; or far Inexorably drawn down that old tide Where Orient stillnesses of temples are As subtile as sage incense; and as wide Blown to the sea; and as familiar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE GASCOIGNE'S GOOD MORROW by GEORGE GASCOIGNE PEACE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON |