All from the light of the sweet moon Tired men now lie abed; Actionless, full of visions, soon Vanishing, soon sped. The starry night aflock with beams Of crystal light scarce stirs: Only its birds -- the cocks, the streams, Call 'neath heaven's wanderers. All's silent; all hearts still; Love, cunning, fire, fallen low: When faint morn straying on the hill Sighs, and his soft airs flow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPRING OF THE YEAR by ALLAN CUNNINGHAM PRAYER OF A SOLDIER IN FRANCE by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER ODE ON SOLITUDE (FINAL PRINTED VERSION) by ALEXANDER POPE ANNE by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE |