A FLOCK of crows high from the Northland flies, On their dark wings the evening sunshine plays. Below the Ursulines' calm convent lies And an old man dreams in its garden ways. From the cool chapel float the harmonies Upward in rapture deep of peace and grace And fall and fade ... All sound of living dies While the old man unto Our Lady prays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 3 by CLARENCE MAJOR BOYHOOD FRIENDS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FROM THE AGES WITH A SMILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 3. THAILALND by KAREN SWENSON |