The tall, flung trees, Peopled by whirring wings, Speak stridently into one of summer's neon nights. The big, pale moon Saunters slowly down the skies ... Times Square surrounded by the stars' headlights. The little lightning-bugs Flash on, wink off, Dots and dashes on the screens of shadows' density; This, before my eyes, Is oldest bedlam -- The virgin, noisy night untouched by man-made melody. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 4. REVEILLE by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN LATE LEAVES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A CANADIAN BOAT SONG; WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE by THOMAS MOORE THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP TO DR. AIKIN ON HIS COMPLAINING THAT SHE NEGLECTED HIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |