INTO the shadowland of Yesterday The night has flown on unreturning wings: This night whose moments were our golden strings Whereon those passionate melodies to play Of which the echoes all about us stay With hints of incommunicable things: This night, whereof no dawn oblivion brings, Nor any step of all our ultimate way. So now, as one who leaves the Sacrament To read the Word, I loose thy hands, my sweet, That so my reasonable soul may greet And be conformed to thine—the day be spent In converse intimate, night find us blent In union more essential, more complete. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN MALINDY SINGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS FRATERNITY by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH REMINISCENCE by LYLE BARTSCHER H. SACRAMENT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT DARTMOUTH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE MAID OF ARC; FOR M. S. M. by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |