OH, sweet content, that turns the labourer's sweat To tears of joy, and shines the roughest face; How often have I sought you high and low, And found you still in some lone quiet place. Here, in my room, when full of happy dreams, With no life heard beyond that merry sound Of moths that on my lighted ceiling kiss Their shadows as they dance and dance around. Or in a garden, on a summer's night, When I have seen the dark and solemn air Blink with the blind bat's wings, and heaven's bright face Twitch with the stars that shine in thousands there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPEAKING TERMS by JAMES GALVIN POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA CLOSING TIME AT THE SAN DIEGO ZOO by KAREN SWENSON DEXTER GORDON: COPENHAGEN/AVERY FISHER HALL by KAREN SWENSON |