THE spray sprang up across the cusps of the moon, And all its light loomed green As a witch-flame's weirdsome sheen At the minute of an incantation scene; And it greened our gaze -- that night at demilune. Roaring high and roaring low was the sea Behind the headland shores: It symboled the slamming of doors, Or a regiment hurrying over hollow floors. . . . And there we two stood, hands clasped; I and she! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WOMEN WITH FABLED HAIR by MADELINE DEFREES TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STREET CRIES: 6. TO RICHARD WAGNER by SIDNEY LANIER THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |