Nights when I tarry in this passionate clay, The house and freehold of my vassal, Thought, I hear his hounds upon the wind away Baying a quarry they have all but caught. But when full morning breaks the pack comes home, Spent from the chase and drenched with chilling dew; The driven stag they lathered into foam Climbs the far hills where they will not pursue. I mind how you would say, in nights now gone, That it was always darkest under the lamp For you; and presently the glaucous dawn Would turn us home through meadows elfin-damp. But now, as though to lighten your desire, You sleep in earth with neither lamp nor fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE WORD OF AN ENGINEER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON AT NIGHT; SONNET by AMY LOWELL CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LEAVES FIRST by CARL PHILLIPS WAR VERSE (1914) by EZRA POUND |