The opalescent mists have spun Pale ribbon webs across the sun, And touched each separate strand with rose They salvaged from the crimson close Of yesterday. A breathless stillness holds the earth, Expectant of the new day's birth. Then softly in that pregnant hush, The redbird, oriole, and thrush Begin to pray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXODUS FOR OREGON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 50. WILLOWWOOD (2) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI WHY THUS LONGING by HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 8. THE CABLE HYMN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FROM AN OFFICE WINDOW by FRANCES M. BALLARD MORGUE: 1. LITTLE ASTER by GOTTFRIED BENN KEATS WAS AN UNBELIEVER by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |