1 Mornings were there, richer than of Eastern story, When the dark, wet trunks the sun-bathed elms uphold, Bedded in the leaves whose lustrous glory Half was sheen of emeralds, half of lucent gold. 2 Evenings when the sun set, like a king departed Unto other lands with revel, pomp, and light, While the queenly moon, deserted, pale, proud-hearted, Paces the still corridors of the stars all night. 3 Hours of golden noonday, when the blood up-leaping Like a soft, swift lightning pulses through the veins; Hours of shrouded midnight, when the soul unsleeping Calm self-knowledge, wider trust, and patience gains. 4 Friendships truer than all woman's brittle passion, Love that in its fullness, even while we stand Here, to part, has only stammering expression, Dumb and half-embarrassed clinging hand to hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT FROST RELATES THE DEATH OF THE TIRED MAN by LOUIS UNTERMEYER SOHRAB AND RUSTUM by MATTHEW ARNOLD INTERIM by CLARISSA SCOTT DELANY THE SONG OF THE BOW, FR. THE WHITE COMPANY by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE |