WHEN I stepped homeward to my hill Dusk went before with quiet tread; The bare laced branches of the trees Were as a mist about its head. Upon its leaf-brown breast, the rocks Like great grey sheep lay silent-wise; Between the birch trees' gleaming arms, The faint stars trembled in the skies. The white brook met me half-way up And laughed as one that knew me well, To whose more clear than crystal voice The frost had joined a crystal spell. The skies lay like pale-watered deep. Dusk ran before me to its strand And cloudily leaned forth to touch The moon's slow wonder with her hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RESOLVE by ALEXANDER BROME THE KNIGHT'S TOMB by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 3 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, ESQ., ON SEEING HIS PICTURE ... by MATTHEW ARNOLD PATTY MORGAN THE MILKMAID'S STORY: 'LOOK AT THE CLOCK!' by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |