THE pine woods on the hill, And the farmhouse miles away, Showed clear as though behind a lens Under a sky of peacock blue! But a blanket of cloud by afternoon Muffled the earth. And you walked the road And the clover field, where the only sound Was the cricket's liquid tremolo. Then the sun went down between great drifts Of distant storms. For a rising wind Swept clean the sky and blew the flames Of the unprotected stars; And swayed the russet moon, Hanging between the rim of the hill And the twinkling boughs of the apple orchard. You walked the shore in thought Where the throats of the waves were like whip-poor-wills Singing beneath the water and crying To the wash of the wind in the cedar trees, Till you stood, too full for tears, by the cot, And looking up saw Jupiter, Tipping the spire of the giant pine, And looking down saw my vacant chair, Rocked by the wind on the lonely porch -- Be brave, Beloved! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NATIONALITY by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS PROMETHEUS by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE LEPRECAUN, OR THE FAIRY SHOEMAKER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE SMUGGLER'S LEAP; A LEGEND OF THANET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE FIRST AMERICAN CONGRESS by JOEL BARLOW MINDEN HOUSE by WILLIAM BARNES |