Deep black against the dying glow The tall elms stand; the rooks are still; No windbreath makes the faintest thrill Amongst the leaves; the fields below Are vague and dim in twilight shades -- Only the bats wheel in their raids On the grey flies, and silently Great dusky moths go flitting by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT THE LEPER by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE VOICE OF THE RAIN by WALT WHITMAN THE WAY OF SACRIFICE by MATTHEW ARNOLD ENVOI: DEATH (1) by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) IMAGINATION by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TESTAMENT FOR MY STUDENTS, 1968 - 1969 by KAY BOYLE |