''Tis with the evening that I feel thy want, For with the light my sun of life goes down— How cold the Moon's pale fire! how grim and gaunt The spectral arms about my casement blown! How wofully the winds of midnight moan! And I—tho' Love is hospiced everywhere— Have no sweet Love to comfort my despair!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HENRY MOORE'S STATUE AT LINCOLN CENTER by KAREN SWENSON |