Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers, And every bloom becomes a bud again, Shut and sealed up against the golden showers Of bees that hover in the velvet hours.... Now a strain Wild and mournful blown from shadow towers, Echoed from shadow ships upon the foam, Proclaims the Queen of Night. From their bowers The dark Princess fluttering, wing their flight To their old Mother, in her huge old home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DREAM OF JULIUS CAESAR by ROBERT FROST A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST HOW MY HEART SINKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FREE FANTASIA ON JAPANESE THEMES by AMY LOWELL THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR LEAVES OF A MAGAZINE by MARIANNE MOORE |