O sing, in heart of silence hiding near, Thou whom the roses bend their heads to hear! In silence down the moonlight slides her wing: Will no rose breathe while Philomel doth sing? No breath -- and deeper yet the perfume grows: The voice of Philomel can slay a rose: The song of Philomel on nights serene Implores the gods who roam in shades unseen, But never calls the roses, whose perfume Deepens and deepens, as they wait their doom. Is it not silence whose great bosom heaves? Listen, a rose-tree drops her quiet leaves. Now silence flashes lightning like a storm: Now silence is a cloud, and cradled warm By risings and by fallings of the tune That Philomel doth sing, as shines the moon, -- A bird's or some immortal voice from Hell? There is no breath to die with, Philomel! And yet the world has changed without a breath. The moon lies heavy on the roses' death, And every rosebush droops its leafy crown. A gust of roses has gone sweeping down. The panicked garden drives her leaves about: The moon is masked: it flares and flickers out. O shivering petals on your lawn of fear, Turn down to Earth and hear what you shall hear. A beat, a beat, a beat beneath the ground, And hurrying beats, and one great beat profound. A heart is coming close: I have heard pass The noise of a great Heart upon the grass. The petals reel. Earth opens: from beneath The ashen roses on their lawn of death, Raising her peaceful brow, the grand and pale Demeter listens to the nightingale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LILLIPUTIAN ODE ON THEIR MAJESTIES' ACCESSION by HENRY CAREY (1687-1743) ROBINSON CRUSOE by MOTHER GOOSE AUTHOR TO HIS CHILD by FRANCES AIRTH THE POET by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY MUFFLED by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SUMMER-TIME THAT WAS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |