ON the lone rocks of Rye, When the day grows dimmer, And the stars from the sky Shed a tremulous glimmer, While the low winds croon, And the waves, as they glisten, Complain to the moon, I linger and listen. All the magical whole Of shadow and splendor Steals into my soul, Majestic yet tender; And the desolate main, Like a sibyl intoning Her mystical strain, Keeps ceaselessly moaning. I hear it spell-bound, All its myriad voices, -- Its wandering sound, And my spirit rejoices; For out of the deep And the distance it crieth, And, deep unto deep, My spirit replieth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG A WARRIOR'S PRAYER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT SEA UNICORNS AND LAND UNICORNS by MARIANNE MOORE KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES [MAY 31, 1862] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN BALLADE OF A TRAVELLER'S JINX by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTOWN by WILLIAM BANKER JR. |