THE spray sprang up across the cusps of the moon, And all its light loomed green As a witch-flame's weirdsome sheen At the minute of an incantation scene; And it greened our gaze -- that night at demilune. Roaring high and roaring low was the sea Behind the headland shores: It symboled the slamming of doors, Or a regiment hurrying over hollow floors. . . . And there we two stood, hands clasped; I and she! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA AFTER DIVORCE; FOR NAHID SARMAD by KAREN SWENSON W'EN I GITS HOME by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WRAITH by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A HOUSE by JOHN COLLINGS SQUIRE MINNIE AND WINNIE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CLOUD ON THE WAY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THREE EPISTLES TO G. LLOYD ON A PASSAGE FROM HOMER'S ILIAD: 1 by JOHN BYROM |