Death is like moonlight in a lofty wood, That pours pale magic through the shadowy leaves; 'T is like the web that some old perfume weaves In a dim, lonely room where memories brood; Like snow-chilled wine it steals into the blood, Spurring the pulse its coolness half reprieves; Tenderly quickening impulses it gives, As April winds unsheathe an opening bud. Death is like all sweet, sense-enfolding things, That lift us in a dream-delicious trance Beyond the flickering good and ill of chance; But most is Death like Music's buoyant wings, That bear the soul, a willing Ganymede, Where joys on joys forevermore succeed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A FLORIDA GHOST by SIDNEY LANIER HERO-WORSHIP; SONNET by AMY LOWELL DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SIMON SURNAMED PETER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |