1. An Orange Grove

The short sweet purple twilight dreams
Of vanish'd day, of coming night;
And like gold moons in the soft light
Each scented drooping orange gleams
From out the glossy leaves black-green
That make through noon a cool dark screen.
The dusk is silence, save the thrill
That stirs it from cicalas shrill.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.