Albert Bigelow Paine
In Louisiana - Poem by Albert Bigelow Paine
The long, gray moss that softly swings
In solemn grandeur from the trees,
Like mournful funeral draperies,—
A brown-winged bird that never sings.
A shallow, stagnant, inland sea,
Where rank swamp grasses wave, and where
A deadliness lurks in the air,—
A sere leaf falling silently.
The death-like calm on every hand,
That one might deem it sin to break,
So pure, so perfect, —these things make
The mournful beauty of this land.
Comments about In Louisiana by Albert Bigelow Paine
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.