The short sweet purple twilight dreams Of vanish'd day, of coming night; And like gold moons in the soft light Each scented drooping orange gleams From out the glossy leaves black-green That make through noon a cool dark screen. The dusk is silence, save the thrill That stirs it from cicalas shrill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RAIN MUSIC by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. THE RACING CARS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET RISE, GLORIOUS CONQUEROR! RISE by MATTHEW BRIDGES DON JUAN: CANTO 6 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON NEW JERSEY by MILDRED W. CLARK BLOOM THAT NEVER DIES by MARTHA C. COCHRAN |