ON the lone rocks of Rye, When the day grows dimmer, And the stars from the sky Shed a tremulous glimmer, While the low winds croon, And the waves, as they glisten, Complain to the moon, I linger and listen. All the magical whole Of shadow and splendor Steals into my soul, Majestic yet tender; And the desolate main, Like a sibyl intoning Her mystical strain, Keeps ceaselessly moaning. I hear it spell-bound, All its myriad voices, -- Its wandering sound, And my spirit rejoices; For out of the deep And the distance it crieth, And, deep unto deep, My spirit replieth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER NIGHT SONG by SARA TEASDALE DEDICATION FOR A PLOT OF GROUND by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 112. GIBRALTAR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE THE YOUTH WITH RED-GOLD HAIR by EDITH SITWELL MOON-BRIGHT DREAMS by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS LEMNISCUS AD COLUMNAM S. SIMEONIS STYLITAE APPENSUS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |