WE SIT in the rural gloaming, While the moon shines silvery pale— And the stars are twinkling brightly, As we hear the nightingale: "Me-ow! Me-ow! Phzzt! Me-ow!" The lovely music passes, And there comes a wondrous hush— Then, through the evening shadows, We hear the vibrant thrush: "Oink, oink, oink, oink!" The mystic spell of midnight Comes over hill and dell, When the robin starts his singing, In the notes we love so well: "Bow wow! Urf, urf, urf! Bow wow!" Oh, glorious is the country, How we love its gleaming gloam, With its music, all so different From the sounds we hear at home! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUN HOUSE FABLE by KAREN SWENSON THE CATS' MONTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ON WORDSWORTH by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE CURIOSITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WASHERS OF THE SHROUD; OCTOBER, 1861 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE FLIGHT OF THE GODDESS by CELIA THAXTER AN UNANSWERABLE APOLOGY FOR THE RICH by MARY BARBER BLESS, DEAR SAVIOUR, THIS CHILD by THOMAS BECK FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAD AND CHEERFUL SONGS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |