All's silent, save a murmuring. This evening, standing in the wheat, I hear all Nature hearkening. What hour is this that flies so fleet? . . . All's silent, save this murmuring. What hour from the far belfry comes in the hollow of my hand to die, against my ears' attentive drums? or living in my heart doth vie with its beatings, dreamily? The earth is a cathedral gray. The host of the moon is lifted there. The wheat doth murmur an @3ave@1 that, to the belfry, breezes bear, moved and large and flown away. and all the wheat is bowed in prayer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND THE ARCHITECT (1) by KAREN SWENSON THE PRAIRIES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 25 by PHILIP SIDNEY NOCTURNE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER ON A GRAVE IN CHRIST-CHURCH, HANTS by OSCAR FAY ADAMS THE SECOND MOTHERHOOD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS |