THE night is still and the air is keen, Tense with menace the time crawls by, In front is the town and its homes are seen, Blurred in outline against the sky. The dead leaves float in the sighing air, The darkness moves like a curtain drawn, A veil which the morning sun will tear From the face of death. We charge at dawn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COUNTRY FAITH by NORMAN ROWLAND GALE THE COLISEUM by EDGAR ALLAN POE IT IS FINISHED' by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET: 98 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IMAGES: 3 by RICHARD ALDINGTON REMINISCENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 2. THE FLOWER ASLEEP by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |