Evening Song

The third “panel” of a triptych of poems:


As the light of day grows feeble and begins to fade,
The stream grows solemn and turns a leaden gray.
Startled, the lark takes flight back to the shelter of its nest,
As the last dying beams sink low behind the crest.
The heavy-ladened bee returns to a hero’s welcome,
As the hive settles down to a low, murmuring hum.
The Evening Star pierces the clear, dark blue sky,
While a cricket begins chirping a lonesome lullaby.
The ploughman returns home, his boots well-caked with the earth,
To sit after his supper with pipe in hand before the hearth.
Then off to his cot where he falls fast into a deep, dreamless slumber,
Before awakening at dawn to yet another day of weary labor.
While the poet, all alone, stretches out beneath the darkening sky,
And from time to time, out slips from between his lips, a longing sigh.

(©Poeticmeditations 2012.  All rights reserved.)

A personally signed copy of this poem can be ordered at PoeticExpressions.


About poeticmeditations

A 19th-century romantic poet living in the 21st-century. The Romantic poets, nib pens, candlelight, waistcoats, and pocket watches are a few of my favorite things.
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