Harold Monro Poems
|7.||The Silent Pool||4/23/2012|
|11.||Man Carrying Bale||4/21/2010|
|13.||The Nightingale Near The House||4/21/2010|
|15.||Children Of Love||4/21/2010|
|16.||Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In 'strange Meetings.')||4/21/2010|
|19.||Youth In Arms||4/21/2010|
|21.||The Rebellious Vine||4/21/2010|
|22.||The Bird At Dawn||4/21/2010|
|24.||Child Of Dawn||1/1/2004|
|25.||Overheard On A Salmarsh||4/21/2010|
|26.||Milk For The Cat||4/21/2010|
When I returned at sunset,
The serving-maid was singing softly
Under the dark stairs, and in the house
Twilight had entered like a moon-ray.
Tune was so dead I could not understand
The meaning of midday or of midnight,
But like falling waters, falling, hissing, falling,
Silence seemed an everlasting sound.
I sat in my room,
And watched sunset,
And saw starlight.
I heard the tramp of homing men,
And the last call of the last child;
Then a lone bird twittered,
And suddenly, beyond the housetops,
I imagined dew in the country,
In the ...
Children Of Love
The holy boy
Went from his mother out in the cool of the day
Over the sun-parched fields
And in among the olives shining green and shining grey.
There was no sound,
No smallest voice of any shivering stream.
Poor sinless little boy,
He desired to play and to sing; he could only sigh and dream.