THE sunset crimsons on the heights, Flushing the cold snow with its kiss, The crags are rich with yellow lights,-- I am all lost in silent bliss, Thinking of thee. The red light pales along the range, And glooms to mournful violet, The dying glow grows sad and strange,- My eyes with some stray tears are wet, Thinking of thee. Fall on her, tell her, dying glow, How I am dreaming of her here, And kiss for me her snowy brow,-- Love, I am weak with hope and fear, Thinking of thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? by PAUL VERLAINE DREAM SONG: 1 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BEAUTIFUL THINGS by ELLEN P. ALLERTON EPITAPH ON FRANCIS CHARTRES by JOHN ARBUTHNOT WARPED FLOWER by SHEILA BARBOUR A LOVE-MESSAGE by LILLIAN CORBETT BARNES |