Under the crescent moon's faint glow The washerman's bat resounds afar, And the autumn breeze sighs tenderly. But my heart has gone to the Tartar war, To bleak Kansuh and the steppes of snow, Calling my husband back to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY SABBATH THOUGHTS by GRACE AGUILAR THE CHILD'S GRAVE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THIEPVAL WOOD by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ALL WHITE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TO THE MEMORY OF CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD AMELIA EARHART by HELEN BRYANT GLIMPSES OF CHILDHOOD: 1. MOTHER MAGIC by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |