Twilight is—to most—a rising wall that brings the dark. To me, now, it is a hyphen space Between that compound, sorrow-peace. I told a group of friends, some old, some new, How just recently, I sat one unsuspecting twilight That showed no outlet, save its bridge of night, When something stirred, like a breeze low-circling Seeking out a covered path to go— Then a voice, as luminous as a shining door, Swung an opening, letting music in, and light, And gave me key for every twilight after— A key that turned the twilight to a curtain, Hiding exit that avoided pitfall-night.... And each man there, especially the singer and the poet— Each stroked a conscious chin; And every woman raised a speculating eyebrow.... But from him, whose voice had been the shining door, Came the slight effect of laughter— Laughter soft as whirling of a leaf.... They did not hear—but I rejoiced, Knowing that the dead most live! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...READY TO KILL by CARL SANDBURG THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM SYCAMORE (1790-1880) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE BRIDE by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE ZOLA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WALT WHITMAN by FRANCIS HOWARD WILLIAMS FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 5 by GEORGE BARKER |