THEY are so dark, the cedars, They keep so still a house! Muffled in purple silence They fold their brooding boughs. Yet they are shaped like music When the heart listens most! They are the wind's brave gesture, The singing river's ghost. And twilight in their branches Is murmurous and cool Like strings of water falling Into a waiting pool. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH by WILLIAM COWPER WHEN FIRST MY WAY by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN ALONZO THE BRAVE AND THE FAIR IMOGINE by MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS SONNET: 73 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A COAT by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |