The thin moonlight with trickling ray, Thridding the boughs of silver may, Trembles in beauty, pale and cool, On folded flower, and mantled pool. All in a haze the rushes lean -- And he -- he sits, with chin between His two cold hands; his bare feet set Deep in the grasses, green and wet. About his head a hundred rings Of gold loop down to meet his wings, Whose feathers, arched their stillness through, Gleam with slow-gathering drops of dew. The mouse-bat peers; the stealthy vole Creeps from the covert of its hole; A shimmering moth its pinions furls, Grey in the moonshine of his curls; 'Neath the faint stars the night-airs stray, Scattering the fragrance of the may; And with each stirring of the bough Shadow beclouds his childlike brow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE FAIR CLARINDA, WHO MADE LOVE TO ME by APHRA BEHN TWO SONNETS FROM NEW YORK: QUESTIONS by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER SONNET TO NICHOLAS BLACKLEECH OF GRAYES INNE by RICHARD BARNFIELD HEART-SONG by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |