The colorless thin voices of the dark Grow fainter as the moon begins to rise, And like a scimitar the river lies Curving among pale trees with silvered bark. Here at this height we stand, whose lips contain Our vain protesting youth that stirs and cries Dumbly within us. Under widened skies Star-deep in silence, how should we complain? The hours move slowly toward their shining end, Brimmed with broad moonlight and the damp of earth. We are but misers who are forced to spend Our heritage of time, and face long dearth Of wordless nights beneath moon-whitened trees, -- In years to come, more desolate than these. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EXPATIATION ON THE COMBINING OF WEATHERS AT THIRTY .... by HAYDEN CARRUTH POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST MATE (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ANSWER TO PRAYER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |