The tired boulevard, Dozing and off its guard, Slips from its boots that creak with polishing And rests its feet on the knees of the quiet hour -- Shifts the weight of its too important cloak And lets its shoulders droop in the dark. No challenge at the crossing, Only a sleepy wink that seems to say -- "Take over, it has been a heavy day." And then the turning upward toward the hills, Into the fragrance of the woody road -- Here trees have spread their boughs To catch the night, and hold its secret In their certain strength. They have not wearied in these hundred years -- And in the light Of the soft dark night, Only the boulevard -- so bold -- So young -- is old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND, ABSENT UPON PUBLIC EMPLOYMENT by ANNE BRADSTREET LAMENT OF THE FRONTIER GUARD by LI PO LONE DOG by IRENE RUTHERFORD MCLEOD VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1885 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT [JULY, 1491] by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY |