Poem: La Fuite De La Lune



To outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.

And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.

Added: Aug 13 2004 | Viewed: 1627 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Oscar Wilde
Poem: 25. Poem: La Fuite De La Lune
Volume: Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1881
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