THE tree-top, high above the barren field, Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist, Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed To perfect silence, by the faint moon kiss'd. But the low branches, drooping to the ground, Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume, While from their restless depths low whispers sound: "We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom; Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear, And mournful tongues are menacing us here." Then from the topmost bough falls calm reply: "Hush, hush! I see the coming of the morn; Swiftly the silent Night is passing by, And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne. 'T is but your own dim shadows that ye see, 'T is but your own low moans that trouble ye." So Life stands, with a twilight world around; Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky, Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground, Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly -- "Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea, 'T is but thine own dim shadow troubling thee." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS BROTHERS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO MY EXCELLENT LUCASIA, ON OUR FRIENDSHIP. 17TH JULY 1651 by KATHERINE PHILIPS THE HIGH-PRIEST TO ALEXANDER by ALFRED TENNYSON SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE by WALT WHITMAN ON A YOUNG BRIDE DROWNED IN THE BOSPHORUS by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS IN NOVEMBER by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH |