Behind the hilltop drops the sun, The curled heat falters on the sand, While evening's ushers, one by one, Lead in the guests of Twilight Land. The bird is silent overhead, Below the beast has laid him down; Afar, the marbles watch the dead, The lonely steeple guards the town. The south wind feels its amorous course To cloistered sweet in thickets found; The leaves obey its tender force, And stir 'twixt silence and a sound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILLINOIS FARMER by CARL SANDBURG THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH EVENING by ISABELLA LOCKHART ALDERMAN A HYMN OF FORM by GORDON BOTTOMLEY PROLOGUE FOR THE SILVERDALE VILLAGE PLAYERS: EASTER 1922 by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |