Quiet with amber light The pale enfolding afternoon; In sleep the slow leaves fall; Tranquil as misting tears or swoon, The pendent blue that bears No cloud except the daylight moon. Opal, a-drowse, and vast, The river takes its southward way; And southwards sweep the birds, Swift and mysterious and grey. . . . Do so the gusty dead Wing the warm air in troops to-day? Surely this peacefulness Of feathered fields of golden-rod, The wistful, songless trees, And asters clouding from the sod, Them, homing, lure from out The bleak infinitudes of God. Oh, surely all the south Our prayers and dear remembrance make Calls from the cold, blue tides Their wings to-day, and they forsake Their solemn ways for us, Remembering death and all the ache. And thou, so lately one -- Not all the new adventuring In starry realms can hold Thee from return. To-day thy wing, Pausing above my heart, Doth courage and assurance bring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: WEDNESDAY by JOHN BYROM THEALMA AND CLEARCHUS by JOHN CHALKHILL EPITAPH (4) by GABRIELLO CHIABRERA SEA CALL by STANTON ARTHUR COBLENTZ THE LIFE OF HUBERT: MEMORIES OF A DORSET BOYHOOD IN THE 1730S by THOMAS COLE (1727-1796) THE TRAGEDY OF PETE by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER SR. WAR IS KIND: 37 by STEPHEN CRANE |