He comes in the twilight— Evening after evening; Year after year we have watched him. The last rays of the sun Seem held in his transparent wings Whose quills themselves are spread as glimmering rays. He sweeps round the field With dignity and mystery, With the pride befitting a bird of legend, As though he remembered that a goddess with an owl Was worshipped in Ancient Greece. He seems very old, Old with the antiquity of shadowy barns, The antiquity of hollow trees, The antiquity of Night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARMADA; A FRAGMENT by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY ALASKA by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM by HENRY KIRKE WHITE THE MARCH OF XERXES by LUIGI ALAMANNI ADVENTURE ON THE WINGS OF MORNING by RACHEL ALBRIGHT MY BATH by JOHN STUART BLACKIE |