FOLD your pale hands, O night, Pure nun who comes to pray For the departing day— Fold your pale hands. Tell o'er your beads— Dewdrops that where you pass Cluster upon the grass, Tell o'er your beads. Light your clear stars, Tapers whose holy fire Burns with a soul's desire— Light your clear stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE SNAIL by HILDA CONKLING A PRAYER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE VALSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 5 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE HOUND OF HEAVEN by FRANCIS THOMPSON AS THE GREEK'S SIGNAL FLAME by WALT WHITMAN |