EARTH bows herself before the frost to-night, Her pleasant hair, the grass, is changed and white, Her songs are hush'd, her sighs have died away, She lies in silence, passive, cold, and grey. The moon looks down. She scorns the shallow peace, The calm of Age, and cries: "Shall tumult cease Because a bird is dead, a brook is bound? In me alone is final stillness found." Yet other rest we craved, O pulseless Moon; We sought the sunlit peace of summer noon, A glowing hour fulfilled with life and light And consummation won,—but lo, the night! Our house of clay will soon be frosted o'er, Our fledgeling hopes lie dead upon the floor, And many a flower must fail, and fair device, And many a purling stream be sealed with ice. Yet safe in green recesses of the heart A passionate thrush still sits and broods apart; And down in caverns where no frost assails The solemn voice of water still prevails. Though Mirth and Tears, oh frosty Age, sleep well, And all seems quiet as a convent cell, Yet Life still wakes behind her curtains drawn, And sighs for spring and supplicates the dawn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VICTORY IN DEFEAT by EDWIN MARKHAM THE SERE AND YELLOW LEAF by KAREN SWENSON THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 27. LOVE, AND NEVER FEAR by THOMAS CAMPION A MATCH by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE by THOMAS VAUX LUCY (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S PARTING WORDS by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |