A Violin At Dusk Poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese

A Violin At Dusk

Rating: 5.0

Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things,
That pack the day with bluster and with fret.
For here is music at each window set;
Here is a cup which drips with all the springs
That ever bud a cowslip flower; a roof
To shelter till the argent weathers break;
A candle with enough of light to make
My courage bright against each dark reproof.
A hand's width of clear gold, unraveled out
The rosy sky, the little moon appears;
As they were splashed upon the paling red,
Vast, blurred, the village poplars lift about.
I think of young, lost things: of lilacs; tears;
I think of an old neighbor, long since dead.

Monday, December 1, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: music
Bernard F. Asuncion 28 May 2019

One of the best poems by Lizette Woodworth Reese.........

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Castellenas John 28 May 2019

Wonderful poetry. The perfect use of description allowed me to hear the music.

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paul amrod 28 May 2019

A highly contemplative and pensive piece filled with the beauty of a violin at dusk stirring up inner thoughts and imaginative images. Quite profound!

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Edward Kofi Louis 28 May 2019

Enough of light to make! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Julia Luber 28 May 2019

Spells out like a painting often works the mind.

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Mahtab Bangalee 28 May 2019

as if the rhythm touches every cell of heart lovingly

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Kumarmani Mahakul 28 May 2019

This is a beautiful poem on music having touching expression and nice collocation.

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