While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, My heart would brim with dreams about the times When we bent down above the fading coals; And talked of the dark folk, who live in souls Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees; And of the wayward twilight companies, Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content, Because their blossoming dreams have never bent Under the fruit of evil and of good: And of the embattled flaming multitude Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame, And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name, And with the clashing of their sword blades make A rapturous music, till the morning break, And the white hush end all, but the loud beat Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER THE NEW COLOSSUS by EMMA LAZARUS SONNET: 8. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY by JOHN MILTON MOON OF LOVELINESS by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II TO THE FONT-GEORGES by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE SELF-COMMUNING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE REMARKS TO THE BACK OF A PEW by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |