The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West; Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart the winds have shaken; the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAN IN A ROOM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS MARY DONNELLY by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE COCK AND THE BULL by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY NATHAN HALE [SEPTEMBER 22, 1776] by FRANCIS MILES FINCH SHE HEARS THE STORM by THOMAS HARDY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 54 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 9 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |