Oh, nights, carry us far, you purple ships With velvet wings for sails, Bear us across to the gentle gulf of joy. We believe Sinbad gladly, that friend and king of dreams, We would sob to his viols. Ah, there remains a coast where we may never land: Stony day and sun thick as mist. There longing hangs dead upon the cross of the houses— You nights, you curving sail-couches, Remain on the kind sea of sleep! The harbor lures, the morning-bell, A bitter salt burns on our lips: the day! Heavily we lift our weary lashes. @3Odol@1 beckons, blue on the dreary wash-stand. Slipper-symphonies. Café au lait. Oh, man! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCARE-FIRE by ROBERT HERRICK THE CORAL INSECT by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY THE SEASONS: A HYMN by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) THE WILD DUCK'S NEST by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BEST MEMORIAL by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS FLOWER AND THORN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |