 | [Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) |  |
I
'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night—The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Nought is seen in the vault on high
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of white on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest,
She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a silver cone on the waves below;
144
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark—
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest rack.
| [Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) | |