The wind scarce flutters through the leaves, The young moon hath already gone, And kind and cool the dews descend: The lute-strings wake for night alone. In shadow lapse the twinkling streams, The lilied marge their waves caress; And the sheer constellations sway O'er soundless gulfs of nothingness. What cadence charms the poet's ear! What fire-fly fancies round him swarm! He dreads the lantern lights may fail Long ere his thoughts have taken form. Now gallants tap their two-edged swords, And pride and passion swell amain; Like red stars flashing through the night The circling wine-cups brim again. There steals the old sad air of Ou -- Each calls his latest song to mind; Then white sails taper down the stream, While lingering thoughts still look behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POST-IMPRESSIONIST SUSURRATION FOR THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER by HAYDEN CARRUTH ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IMPELLED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SEALS IN PENOBSCOT BAY by KAREN SWENSON IN A BURYING GROUND by SARA TEASDALE TONE PICTURE (MALIPIERO: IMPRESSONI DAL VERO) by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 22 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |