THE moon is newly risen, I wander through the vale; My dreaming eyes are spell-bound By radiance sad and pale. Behind the mill she rises; I watch her silver shield, And in my heart burst open The wounds I thought were healed. Long since, the wheels have mouldered, And roof and door are gone; Babbling of days departed The glittering stream flows on. The moon has sunk in darkness, The wind is blowing cold; Dead is the miller's daughter, And I am grey and old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DEATH SCENE by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE NEW COLOSSUS by EMMA LAZARUS EPIGRAM: 18. THE ENEMY OF LIFE by THOMAS WYATT INSCRIPTIONS: 8 by MARK AKENSIDE ON THE ENGINE BY NIGHT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 3 by WILLIAM BASSE |