The sun is clear of bird and cloud, The grass shines windless, grey, and still, In dusky ruin the owl dreams on, The cuckoo echoes on the hill; Yet soft along Alulvan's walks The ghost at noonday stalks. His eyes in shadow of his hat Stare on the ruins of his house; His cloak, up-fastened with a brooch, Of faded velvet, grey as mouse, Brushes the roses as he goes: Yet wavers not one rose. The wild birds in a cloud fly up From their sweet feeding in the fruit; The droning of the bees and flies Rises gradual as a lute; Is it for fear the birds are flown, And shrills the insect-drone? Thick is the ivy o'er Alulvan, And crisp with summer-heat its turf; Far, far across its empty pastures Alulvan's sands are white with surf: And he himself is grey as the sea, Watching beneath an elder-tree. All night the fretful, shrill Banshee Lurks in the chambers' dark festoons, Calling for ever, o'er garden and river, Through magpie changing of the moons: 'Alulvan, O, alas! Alulvan, The doom of lone Alulvan!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL BURY ME IN A FREE LAND by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME by ROBERT HERRICK CHANGED by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN JULY IN MONTANA by LILLA BOGERT |