THE brave young city by the Balboa seas Lies compassed about by the hosts of night -- Lies humming, low, like a hive of bees; And the day lies dead. And its spirit's flight Is far to the west; while the golden bars That bound it are broken to a dust of stars. Come under my oaks, oh, drowsy dusk! The wolf and the dog; dear incense hour When Mother Earth hath a smell of musk, And things of the spirit assert their power -- When candles are set to burn in the west -- Set head and foot to the day at rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 35 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ON FINDING A FAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING PHILOMELA by JOHN CROWE RANSOM ON THE DEATH OF A CAT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI GARDEN DAYS: 7. THE GARDENER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |