The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West; Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart the winds have shaken; the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEDANTIC LITERALIST by MARIANNE MOORE VARIATIONS: 15 by CONRAD AIKEN SPOKEN AT A CASTLE GATE by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW |