The white moon Shines in the woods, From each branch Leaves a voice Under the oar... Oh, beloved friend. The pond reflects, Deep mirror, The silhouette Black willow Where the wind cries... Let us dream, it is the hour. A vast and tender Appeasing Seem to go down From strength That the star makes iridescent... It is the exquisite hour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 12 by JAMES JOYCE CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOCKED OUT; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |