A call at night ascending from the lake In ever-rising mournfulness ... To pause with echoes bounding in its wake, And rise again to eerieness. The poplar leaves are tapping lightly now, With frosted bellies to the moon, And sound like demon drums that weirdly take Their cadence from the lonely loon. Call on! and let your eerie music rise; Tap on! and let the incubi drum; The moving night is filled with ghostly cries That shriek, and buzz, and moan, and hum ... And I am king in a shadowed satyr's world, Enthroned with the loon's first doleful call; Beneath a tree I rule in dark disguise The fauns in my celestial hall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEXINGTON; 1775 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER VARIUM ET MUTABILE by THOMAS WYATT TO A BIRD IN THE CITY by MATTHIAS BARR POLYHYMNIA: SONNET TO LADY FALKLAND UPON HER GOING TO INTO IRELAND by WILLIAM BASSE A LOVE IDYLL by ANNA CORNELIA BOWEN |