AH, of those better tides of dark and melancholy— When one's abroad, in a field—the night very deep, very holy; The turf very sodden a-foot, walking heavy—the small ring of light, O' the lanthorn one carries, a-swinging to left and to right, Revealing a flicker of hedgerow, a flicker of rushes—and Night Ev'rywhere; ev'rywhere sleep and a hushing to sleep— I know that I never shall utter the uttermost secrets aright, They lie so deep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON MY LOVE COULD WALK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES FREDERICK DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONNET: 21 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL FOR AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN (BY ANDREA MANTEGNA) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |