AH, of those better tides of dark and melancholy— When one's abroad, in a field—the night very deep, very holy; The turf very sodden a-foot, walking heavy—the small ring of light, O' the lanthorn one carries, a-swinging to left and to right, Revealing a flicker of hedgerow, a flicker of rushes—and Night Ev'rywhere; ev'rywhere sleep and a hushing to sleep— I know that I never shall utter the uttermost secrets aright, They lie so deep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCRIBE by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE WITH FLOWERS by EMILY DICKINSON THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS; ADDRESSED TO TWO SWALLOWS .. DURING SERVICE by CHARLES SPRAGUE ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA by PHILLIS WHEATLEY FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS SOLD INTO BONDAGE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER A MAY NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS LILIES: 13. 'LET US NEVER COMFORT EACH OTHER INTO SLEEP' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |