LIKE to a molten globe which workers turn, Of crimson-heated steel, the sinking sun Dropped to the far blue level of the lake And laid a burning causeway o'er the waves. Then in the russet twilight sable clouds Sat here and there, sprinkled with little stars— Thus darkness came, and, a red light to port, A green to starboard, at the cable's end Our shadowy tow-boat followed in our wake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOKEN AT A CASTLE GATE by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST DAT GAL O' MINE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HEART'S FIRST WORD (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG |