Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

A Nocturne - Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

The Moon has gone to her rest,
A full hour ago.
The Pleiads have found a nest
In the waves below.
Slow, the Hours one by one
In Midnight's footsteps creep.
Lovers who lie alone
Soon wake to weep.
Slow--footed tortoise Hours, will ye not hasten on,
Till from his prison
In the golden East
A new day shall have risen,
And the last stars be gone,
Like guests belated from a bridal feast?
When the long night is done
Then shall ye sleep.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010



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