ALONG the lifted line of sombre green The sunset bonfire calms in golden space, The one hedge oak against the splendour seen Like a squat idol grossly stares at grace. The white star's come, no witness saw it come, The music is the night in reed and thorn; The young bird doubts and stirs, then nestles home, That winged dew rustles on. O Vesper-born, Stiff-necked I stand like that hewn knotty tree, As if heaven were my halo! Your dim span Seemed scarce from fern to wildbriar; but began And died? Your moment was infinity. I bowed not, trembled not; as though I were The carven botch of an idolater. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRELUDE TO A FAIRY TALE by EDITH SITWELL OUR COUNTRY'S CALL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE PALM TREE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 47. BROKEN MUSIC by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SANDY STAR: 1. SCULPTURED WORSHIP by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE AN OLD MAN'S SONG by HELENE BUHLERT BULLOCK |