 | Western windows and other poems |  |
137
MOONRISE.
'Tis midnight and the city lies
With dreaming heart and closéd eyes:
The giant's folded hands at rest,
Like Prayer asleep, are on his breast.
With dreaming heart and closéd eyes:
The giant's folded hands at rest,
Like Prayer asleep, are on his breast.
From windows hush'd, I see alone
The tide-worn streets so silent grown:
The dusty footprints of the day
Are bless'd with dew and steal away.
The tide-worn streets so silent grown:
The dusty footprints of the day
Are bless'd with dew and steal away.
Oh, scarce a pulse of sound! Afar,
Flashes upon a spire a star—
Lo, in the East a dusky light:
Ghost-like the moon moves through the night.
Flashes upon a spire a star—
Lo, in the East a dusky light:
Ghost-like the moon moves through the night.
Unveiling slow, a face of blood
She lifts into the solitude!
The city sleeps; above, behold
The moonrise kiss a cross of gold!
She lifts into the solitude!
The city sleeps; above, behold
The moonrise kiss a cross of gold!
138
Golden in air that cross: at rest
Below the city's sleeping breast;
And on the cross, moon-brighten'd, see!
Christ, dying, smiles down lovingly!
Below the city's sleeping breast;
And on the cross, moon-brighten'd, see!
Christ, dying, smiles down lovingly!
| Western windows and other poems | |