Poem Hunter
A Violin At Dusk
(January 9, 1856 – December 17, 1935 / Waverly)

A Violin At Dusk

Poem By Lizette Woodworth Reese

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.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 5 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

A highly contemplative and pensive piece filled with the beauty of a violin at dusk stirring up inner thoughts and imaginative images. Quite profound!
Enough of light to make! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Spells out like a painting often works the mind.
as if the rhythm touches every cell of heart lovingly
This is a beautiful poem on music having touching expression and nice collocation.
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