WHEN I stepped homeward to my hill Dusk went before with quiet tread; The bare laced branches of the trees Were as a mist about its head. Upon its leaf-brown breast, the rocks Like great grey sheep lay silent-wise; Between the birch trees' gleaming arms, The faint stars trembled in the skies. The white brook met me half-way up And laughed as one that knew me well, To whose more clear than crystal voice The frost had joined a crystal spell. The skies lay like pale-watered deep. Dusk ran before me to its strand And cloudily leaned forth to touch The moon's slow wonder with her hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPEAKING TERMS by JAMES GALVIN DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CORPORATE ENTITY by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |