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User Rating:
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5.4
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(20 votes)
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I cannot find my way: there is no star
In all the shrouded heavens anywhere;
And there is not a whisper in the air
Of any living voice but one so far
That I can hear it only as a bar
Of lost, imperial music, played when fair
And angel fingers wove, and unaware,
Dead leaves to garlands where no roses are.
No, there is not a glimmer, nor a call,
For one that welcomes, welcomes when he fears,
The black and awful chaos of the night;
For through it all--above, beyond it all--
I know the far sent message of the years,
I feel the coming glory of the light.
Edwin Arlington Robinson
| Submitted Date |
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Friday, January 03, 2003 |
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Read poems about / on: angel, star, music, lost, light, night, rose, fear
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