By Morning Twilight

George Meredith

 Next Poem          

Night, like a dying mother,
Eyes her young offspring, Day.
The birds are dreamily piping.
And O, my love, my darling!
The night is life ebb'd away:
Away beyond our reach!
A sea that has cast us pale on the beach;
Weeds with the weeds and the pebbles
That hear the lone tamarisk rooted in sand
Sway
With the song of the sea to the land.

Next Poem 

 Back to George Meredith

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.