Hill-tops are forms of silence, And sunlight is like skin, And every pine along the cliffs Hushes what I have been, And what I have known. And the quiet Draws me to tingle and throb; And a three-stemmed dogwood in blossom Breaks from me like a sob. There is nothing, and then still nothing (Excepting everything) And I vanish in many white sepals And the blue curve of a wing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUCCESSOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: A SQUIRE SPEAKS by THOMAS CAMPION A NORTHERN SONG by THOMAS D'URFEY PRO AND CONTRA by M. A. M. DESAUGIERS CHINOISERIE by BABETTE DEUTSCH |