AT noon of night, and at the night's pale end, Such things have chanced to me As one, by day, would scarcely tell a friend For fear of mockery. Shadows, you say, mirages of the brain! I know not, faith, not I. Is it more strange the dead should walk again Than that the quick should die? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLORS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET O DREAMS, O DESTINATIONS by CECIL DAY LEWIS A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN LEFT-HANDED POEM by JAMES GALVIN SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IPPOLIT KONOVALOFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |