Monday, 25 May 2015

poem for the day: At night by amy lowell

...For peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning / To where the cricket sings; / There midnight's all a glimmer, / And noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. ~W.B. Yeats


Amy Lowell
The wind is singing through the trees to-night,
A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences
And crashing intervals. No summer breeze
Is this, though hot July is at its height,
Gone is her gentler music; with delight
She listens to this booming like the seas,
These elemental, loud necessities
Which call to her to answer their swift might.
Above the tossing trees shines down a star,
Quietly bright; this wild, tumultuous joy
Quickens nor dims its splendour. And my mind,
O Star! is filled with your white light, from far,
So suffer me this one night to enjoy
The freedom of the onward sweeping wind.