I cannot see the features right, When on the gloom I strive to paint The face I know; the hues are faint And mix with hollow masks of night; Cloud-towers by ghostly masons wrought, A gulf that ever shuts and gapes, A hand that points, and palled shapes In shadowy thoroughfares of thought; And crowds that stream from yawning doors, And shoals of pucker'd faces drive; Dark bulks that tumble half alive, And lazy lengths on boundless shores; Till all at once beyond the will I hear a wizard music roll, And thro' a lattice on the soul Looks thy fair face and makes it still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. DIET by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE POET'S SOLILOQUY by E. M. AVERILL BEATRICE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE TROPHY GUNS by LEVI BISHOP THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: SIXTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) WITH CORSE AT ALLATOONA by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS |