Midsummer night, without a moon, but the stars In a serene bright multitude were there, Even the shyest ones, even the faint motes shining Low in the north under the Little Bear. When I have said "This tragic farce I play in Has neither dignity, delight nor end," The holy night draws all its stars around me -- I am ashamed, I have betrayed my Friend. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXPLICATION OF AN IMAGINARY TEXT by JAMES GALVIN TO THE MARTYRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALFRED MOIR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |