The darkness is full of well-remembered sounds And smells of vanished spring. Old North's calm clock is making his tuneful rounds, The echoes leap and sing In the old old way from star-topped tower to tower -- I pause in the shadow and strain For the voices that now will arise to salute the hour: But they come not here again. Cradled along the tops of the ancient trees Swings autumn's newest moon -- The shadows shiver before the silent breeze Heralding Night's high-noon. Scattered lights gleam out through the leaded glass, Where the lowest leaves begin: But many a window is dark, and I turn and pass Where I used to enter in. On the edge of night when still is seen no morning, Princeton, you stand and smile. Glad to give, when the call followed the warning, Your sons for a little while. And if they come not again, as before some came not, Heart-free and young and whole, They know their names, like their fathers' fathers', shame not Your ghostly honor-roll. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE CAUTIOUS HOUSEHOLDER by ANAXILAS RUSSIA by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK THE RETURN OF THE DRUSES; A TRAGEDY by ROBERT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A LOVE LETTER by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON REBELLION by HELEN WIEAND COLE TO A FRIEND, TOGETHER WITH AN UNFINISHED POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |