Light is the life of all my thoughts. At twilight, in the woods, I can gather marguerites. It is red, and gilded by the sunset, and I move on— I cannot rest when the sun is gone. If I seek the darkness, it breaks with stars. So many suns appear! Such dew down here! The fair night lights my way with mingled fires. And my hand with the flower always meets. At twilight, in the woods, I gather marguerites. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESPONDING SOUL'S WISH by JOHN BYROM THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE EAGLE OF THE BLUE by HERMAN MELVILLE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 23 by ALFRED TENNYSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 74 by ALFRED TENNYSON |