Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers, And every bloom becomes a bud again, Shut and sealed up against the golden showers Of bees that hover in the velvet hours.... Now a strain Wild and mournful blown from shadow towers, Echoed from shadow ships upon the foam, Proclaims the Queen of Night. From their bowers The dark Princess fluttering, wing their flight To their old Mother, in her huge old home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INQUEST by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES I SIT AND SEW by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON DO YOU FEAR THE WIND? by HAMLIN GARLAND ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 7 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PENT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |