'Tis in the silent isthmus-hour of time, Where light and darkness have alternate birth, And nature in her agony sublime Shrouds with a veil of mystery the earth That, as a mist low-creeping through the gloom, A wandering shadow clasps a nameless tomb -- All night the cypress sighs; the waning moon Sinks, pale with vigil, where the sun has set; The morning wakes; and, lo! an altar strewn -- A grave with deathless sympathy is wet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 2: 7. TO THE BODY by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE FLAMMONDE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 47. BROKEN MUSIC by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AN HYMN TO THE EVENING by PHILLIS WHEATLEY TO MY FRIENDS, WHO RIDICULED A TENDER LEAVE-TAKING by MATTHEW ARNOLD |