The twilight hangs like smoke in the streets, Pearly, veiling all the stretches in illusion; And the new-lit lamps are the glow of hearts That grope unseeing and unseen. At the corner a lean young girl offers me lavender, Offers me youth and romance to hold in my palm, closed -- thus. She gives dreams to the world, She who knows nought of dreams -- Gives gardens, and waters, and the young shy moon Hung in the laurels; Gives the smoke of evening in the willows, And the complaining stream, And the lavender's subtle reawakening of old, dead thoughts. These, all these she gives, this lean girl -- (A shawl is over her head and her eyes look into the darkness). What does @3she@1 know of dreams? How more happy is she than I who have dreamed, And may dream no more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OVERNIGHT, A ROSE by CAROLINE GILTINAN UPON THE NIPPLES OF JULIA'S BREAST by ROBERT HERRICK THE VALLEY OF UNREST (2) by EDGAR ALLAN POE AMORETTI: 70 by EDMUND SPENSER FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 2 by WALT WHITMAN A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN RECOLLECTINS OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |