TWILIGHT it is, and the far woods are dim, and the rooks cry and call. Down in the valley the lamps, and the mist, and a star over all, There by the rick, where they thresh, is the drone at an end, Twilight it is, and I travel the road with my friend. I think of the friends who are dead, who were dear long ago in the past, Beautiful friends who are dead, though I know that death cannot last; Friends with the beautiful eyes that the dust has defiled, Beautiful souls who were gentle when I was a child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO BE LIKED BY YOU WOULD BE A CALAMITY by MARIANNE MOORE CYCLAMENS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY SPELT FROM SIBYL'S LEAVES by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS GIRL TO SOLDIER ON LEAVE by ISAAC ROSENBERG FACADE: 17. DARK SONG by EDITH SITWELL |