There is a haunted island in the sea: I have sat in a house woven of leaves, at midnight, and heard the old-folk chant to the ancient dead by the low flame, and the spirits hovered around us and the children stirred, on the mats, as they slept in the shadows. And my own dead walked with me on that island, walking in dreams, and spoke with the voice of dreams, speaking the language of that ancient land. I have heard the voice of the @3ringoringo@1 bird in the chill of night, as the wind rattled the palm fronds: the @3ringoringo@1, bird of the Great Darkness, come from the Night to the still streets of the village, come on the northern wind, the bird of death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MORE ANCIENT MARINER by BLISS CARMAN THE PLOUGHER [OR PLOWER] by PADRAIC COLUM ASPATIA'S SONG, FR. THE MAID'S TRAEGDY by JOHN FLETCHER THE SON; SOUTHERN OHIO MARKET TOWN by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE CAPTAIN BING by LYMAN FRANK BAUM THOU LIGHT OF LIFE by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX FUNERAL MASS: REQUIEM by BORIS NIKOLAYEVICH BUGAYEV |