WITH star-dust scintillant the vault is sown; But the vague vastitude of lower air Is as a purple shroud about the bare And billowy sand-waste ominously lone. Heavy with sleep, no more the camels moan; Slumber has sealed the pious pilgrim's prayer; And save the lion, loping from his lair, There is no wanderer in this desert zone. The silence quivers if one starts from dreams, But not with sound. The rigor of suspense Were broken could a bird or brook but sing. But, ah, the stillness that so breathless seems! The awful solitude, the imminence As of some unimaginable thing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FACE ON THE [BAR-ROOM] FLOOR by HUGH ANTOINE D'ARCY DISAPPOINTED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CASSANDRA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A QUESTION by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS CANTIC. CHAP. 2 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |