THIS is the castle of King Macbeth. And here he feasts -- when the daylight wanes, And the moon goes softly over the heath -- His Earls and Thanes. A hundred harpers with harps of gold Harp thorough the night high festival: And the sound of the music they make is rolled From hall to hall. They drink deep healths till the rafters rock In the Banquet Hall; and the shout is borne To the courts outside, where the crowing cock Is waked ere morn. And the castle is all in a blaze of light From cresset, and torch, and sconce: and there Each warrior dances all the night With his lady fair. They dance and sing till the raven is stirred On the wicked elm-tree outside in the gloom: And the rustle of silken robes is heard From room to room. But there is one room in that castle old, In a lonely turret where no one goes, And a dead man sits there, stark and cold, Whom no one knows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK AN EVENING LULL by WALT WHITMAN THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES: NEWS OF WAR by AESCHYLUS CHEMISTRY OF A POEM by CAROLYN AUSTIN |