THE prospect is bare and white, And the air is crisp and chill; While the ebon wings of night Are spread on the distant hill. The roar of the stormy sea Seem the dirges shrill and sharp That winter plays on the tree -- His wild AEolian harp. In the pool that darkly creeps In ripples before the gale, A star like a lily sleeps And wiggles its silver tail. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL PIONEER WOMAN by EVA K. ANGLESBURG STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON THE SECRET OF THE BEES by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON ASPIRATIONS: 10 by MATHILDE BLIND SUBMARINE BADINAGE by BERTON BRALEY |