Will you sleep these dark hours, maiden, Beneath the vine that rested Its slender boughs, so purply-laden, All the day around that elm In the mead, nightingale-nested, Which you dark hill wears for an helm, Pasture-robed and forest-crested? There the night of lovely hue Peeps the fearful branches through, And ends in those two eyes of blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE NEGRO'S TRAGEDY by CLAUDE MCKAY PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG SUMMER SHIRT SALE by CARL SANDBURG |