The pine trees patiently unstitch The brightness of this afternoon, But while they work their pungent thoughts Are longing for the dulcet moon. The pine trees only live at night When moonlight brings them silver eyes; Throughout the day they stand like blind Green beggars, uttering restless cries. At night they listen to the words Of winds from far-off mountain rims, And feel the reckless grief that springs From those who stand with prisoned limbs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO FUNERALS: 1. by LOUIS UNTERMEYER WAR IS KIND: 12 by STEPHEN CRANE A BALLAD OF ATHLONE; OR, HOW THEY BROKE DOWN THE BRIDGE by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE: THE POWER OF MUSIC by SAMUEL LISLE |