FAR in the gold-embroidered west The round and red sun lay, Like a great wound upon the breast Of the slow-dying day. Night, and a murmur from the east; I heard the wind's voice roll Out of the dark, a solemn priest, Speeding the day's white soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A PROPOSED TRIP SOUTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO A FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNET: 78 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE WIND ON THE HILLS by DORA SIGERSON SHORTER EPIGRAM: 18. THE ENEMY OF LIFE by THOMAS WYATT |