The moonlight breaks upon the city's domes,
And falls along cemented steel and stone,
Upon the grayness of a million homes,
Lugubrious in unchanging monotone.
Upon the clothes behind the tenement,
That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines,
Linking each flat to each indifferent,
Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines.
There is no magic from your presence here,
Ho, moon, sad moon, tuck up your trailing robe,
Whose silver seems antique and so severe
Against the glow of one electric globe.
Go spill your beauty on the laughing faces
Of happy flowers that bloom a thousand hues,
Waiting on tiptoe in the wilding spaces,
To drink your wine mixed with sweet drafts of dews.
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Comments
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we went over this poem in my english class. The speaker is telling the moon to leave the city, and go to the country, because that's where it would be appreciated. Or that's what my english teachers said, and it didn't make sense to me then. Rereading it now kind of helps. I like this poem though.
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It's interesting to note how the imagery created from beginning lines as opposed to the ending line contrast so much yet the lines meld so perfectly into the poem.
♥ Kimberly -
This is just beautiful. Nice desciptions and all. My fav. line is "Of happy flowers that bloom a thousand hues."
Love, Ashlee
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