The opalescent mists have spun Pale ribbon webs across the sun, And touched each separate strand with rose They salvaged from the crimson close Of yesterday. A breathless stillness holds the earth, Expectant of the new day's birth. Then softly in that pregnant hush, The redbird, oriole, and thrush Begin to pray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESOLATE FIELD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE FISH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE CHAPERON by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER THEOLOGY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHAT THE SONNET IS by EUGENE JACOB LEE-HAMILTON |