'TWAS midnight—midnight in a southern clime; The moon above the mountains—wood and stream And vineyard shining in her silvery beam, As in the sunlight of the morning's prime; The shade of fragrant orange-tree and lime Pierc'd through with twinkling stars; it seem'd a gleam Of Heaven o'erspreading earth, or poet's dream By fancy pictur'd in delusive rhyme. Though mist and darkness wrap our northern grove, No nightingale to charm the listening ear, Nor purple vines, nor cloudless moons above, For such I sigh not; this dark atmosphere Home gilds and gladdens with the light of love; There brighter skies, but fonder hearts are here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY SONNET: SATIRE 3. ON RELIGION by JOHN DONNE THE VISION (1) by ROBERT HERRICK THE LIGHT THAT LIES by THOMAS MOORE VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 5. NIGHT SONG AT AMALFI by SARA TEASDALE TO ALFRED TENNYSON, MY GRANDSON by ALFRED TENNYSON NOCTURNE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 36 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |