Harold Monro Poems
|6.||The Silent Pool||4/23/2012|
|11.||Man Carrying Bale||4/21/2010|
|13.||The Nightingale Near The House||4/21/2010|
|15.||Children Of Love||4/21/2010|
|16.||Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In 'strange Meetings.')||4/21/2010|
|20.||Youth In Arms||4/21/2010|
|22.||The Rebellious Vine||4/21/2010|
|23.||The Bird At Dawn||4/21/2010|
|25.||Child Of Dawn||1/1/2004|
|26.||Overheard On A Salmarsh||4/21/2010|
|27.||Milk For The Cat||4/21/2010|
Milk For The Cat
When the tea is brought at five o'clock,
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there.
At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate,
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be
She is never late.
And presently her agate eyes
Take a soft large milky haze,
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff, hard gaze.
Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir,
Till suddenly ...
It is the sacred hour: above the far
Low emerald hills that northward fold,
Calmly, upon the blue the evening star
Floats, wreathed in dusky gold.
The winds have sung all day; but now they lie
Faint, sleeping; and the evening sounds awake.
The slow bell tolls across the water: I
Am haunted by the spirit of the lake.
It seems as though the sounding of the bell