The moon comes up as the dusk falls late, over the castle, glowing and great, gently loosing the earth as it goes. The moon is like a fiery rose my beloved lost by the garden-gate. Against stone walls my shadow stands, then follows me, like a Moorish slave. I will send him back with my commands to pick up the rose, and, swift and grave, to bring it to her in his dark hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAUCER; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: FOR INSPIRATION by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI GIVE ME THY HEART by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |