AT noon of night, and at the night's pale end, Such things have chanced to me As one, by day, would scarcely tell a friend For fear of mockery. Shadows, you say, mirages of the brain! I know not, faith, not I. Is it more strange the dead should walk again Than that the quick should die? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I'VE NOTHING TO OFFER by DAVID IGNATOW A JOYFUL SONG OF FIVE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE NEGRO'S TRAGEDY by CLAUDE MCKAY TO BE LIKED BY YOU WOULD BE A CALAMITY by MARIANNE MOORE MEMOIR OF A PROUD BOY by CARL SANDBURG IN GRANTCHESTER MEADOWS; ON HEARING A SKYLARK SING by GEORGE SANTAYANA |