 | The March of Man and Other Poems |  |
159
MORNING TWILIGHT
Sadly in the silent west,
The moon, worn-out with watching all the night
Over the sleeping earth, her cheek
Hollow and white,
Wan with a sorrow that she may not speak,
Sinks to her lonely rest.
The moon, worn-out with watching all the night
Over the sleeping earth, her cheek
Hollow and white,
Wan with a sorrow that she may not speak,
Sinks to her lonely rest.
Like a love-deserted maid,
That dare not meet her lord awake, but steals
By night to his bedside, to mourn
Her loss, and feels
Him waking, in the sunlight of his scorn
Triumphantly arrayed.
That dare not meet her lord awake, but steals
By night to his bedside, to mourn
Her loss, and feels
Him waking, in the sunlight of his scorn
Triumphantly arrayed.
| The March of Man and Other Poems | |