BENEATH the midnight moon of May, Through dusk on either hand, One sheet of silver spreads the bay, One crescent jet the land; The black ships mirrored in the stream Their ghostly tresses shake -- When will the dead world cease to dream? When will the morning break? Beneath a night no longer May, Where only cold stars shine, One glimmering ocean spreads away This haunted life of mine; And, shattered on the frozen shore, My harp can never wake -- When will this night of death be o'er? When will the morning break? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH INTERRACIAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON THE PROPOSAL TO ERECT A MONUMENT IN ENGLAND TO LORD BYRON by EMMA LAZARUS TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PICTURE (VENUS RECLINING) by EZRA POUND |