The day is down into his bower: In languid lights his feet he steeps: The flusht sky darkens, low and lower, And closes on the glowing deeps. In creeping curves of yellow foam Up shallow sands the waters slide: And warmly blow what whispers roam From isle to isle the lulled tide: The boats are drawn: the nets drip bright: Dark casements gleam: old songs are sung: And out upon the verge of night Green lights from lonely rocks are hung. O winds of eve that somewhere rove Where darkest sleeps the distant sea, Seek out where haply dreams my love, And whisper all her dreams to me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: SILENCE by THOMAS HOOD BATTLE OF IVRY by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |