THE passionless twilight slowly fades Beyond the gray, grim woodland glades, Till now, with mournful eyes, I mark The approaching dark: A clouded spirit, borne from far, Whose sombre front no delicate star Brightens, -- to tint with silvery light Her realms of night: An @3awful@1 spirit! her pale lips Low whispering down the drear eclipse, Send thro' those rayless spaces chill An ominous thrill: Her tongue's strange language none may know; We only feel it ebb and flow In murmurs of half-muffled sighs, And vague replies: All hail! akin to me thou art, Dim angel of the veiled heart -- Ah! wrap me close, ah! fold me deep! I fain would sleep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF RUTLAND by BEN JONSON TO SOME LADIES [ON RECEIVING A CURIOUS SHELL] by JOHN KEATS SONNET: 146 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE WIND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TIPPERARY: 2. AS THE TRANSLATORS WOULD HAVE INTERLINED IT . . . by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 21. 'TIS CONSTANCY THAT GAINS THE PRIZE by PHILIP AYRES |