(BROOKHILL, 1918) THE stars faded out of the paling sky, Dropped through the waters, but the Morning Star Grew brighter and brighter, and as day was nigh A pure wind troubled the rushes near and far. No bird was yet awake: only the duck Homed to the little lake, fed full with streams: Strange and unreal the full morning broke On a still world as God saw it in dreams. The still-life, austere world was grey and cool, Lit by one burning torch of purest flame. Home—from what hidden haunt, what secret pool?— Borne on the morning wind, the wild duck came. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARADISE LOST: BOOK 4 by JOHN MILTON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 1. THE MARVELLOUS SEED OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES LINES ON THE COTTAGE AT THE FOOT OF BOX HILL, SURREY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CRISPUS ATTUCKS by OLIVA WARD BUSH BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST by PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA LIVING BY FAITH by PHOEBE CARY THE HOUSE OF CHRISTMAS by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON |