The moon was going down; the empty trees shook, sighing, The frost breath in the grasses sere Made joyless anthem; one more year Was dying. Abroad a smuggled light, a luckless light was waning Over the houses hushed, and I Stood numbed, with neither love nor sigh Remaining. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF LOVELY LADYES OF LONG AGOE by FRANCOIS VILLON THE RAINY DAY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE by EDWIN MARKHAM COMPENSATION by MARION L. BERTRAND ECHOES OF SPRING: 3 by MATHILDE BLIND |