Then walk the floor, or twist upon your bed While bullets, cold and blind, rush backward from the target’s eye,
And say, “I will not dream that dream again
I will not dream Of long-spent whispers vanishing down corridors That turn throug...
From where I sit,
I see the stars, And down the chilly floor The moon between the frozen bars Is glimmering dim and hoar
Without in many a peakèd mound The glinting snowdrifts lie; There is no voice or living sound; The embers slowly die...
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The owlet's
Came loud--and hark, again! loud as before.
The moon is now an opening flower, The sky a cliff of blue
The moon is now a silver rose; Her pollen is the dew
Her pollen is the mist that swings Across her face of dreams:
Her pollen is the April rain, Filling the April streams...
Ill busi'd man
why should'st thou take such care To lengthen out thy life's short calendar
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon Presents and acts thy execution
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry, "Fool
Unfathomable Night
how dost thou sweep Over the flooded earth, and darkly hide The mighty city under thy full tide;
Making a silent palace for old Sleep,
Like his own temple under the hush'd deep,