Edith Wharton

(24 January 1862 – 11 August 1937 / New York City / United States)

Battle Sleep


SOMEWHERE, O sun, some corner there must be
Thou visitest, where down the strand
Quietly, still, the waves go out to sea
From the green fringes of a pastoral land.


Deep in the orchard-bloom the roof-trees stand,
The brown sheep graze along the bay,
And through the apple-boughs above the sand
The bees' hum sounds no fainter than the spray.


There through uncounted hours declines the day
To the low arch of twilight's close,
And, just as night about the moon grows gray,
One sail leans westward to the fading rose.


Giver of dreams, O thou with scatheless wing
Forever moving through the fiery hail,
To flame-seared lids the cooling vision bring,
And let some soul go seaward with that sail!

Submitted: Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Battle Sleep by Edith Wharton )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Am I Alone, Lore Me34
  2. "Twist these Big Tits Purple", Richard Thripp
  3. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -66, Ronjoy Brahma
  4. Stories Are Created, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  5. When Fresh Fish Fails, Richard Thripp
  6. center, laxami Cards
  7. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -65, Ronjoy Brahma
  8. Im sorry mom, claudia Fernandez
  9. Witless Innocence, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  10. Sitters And Their Dreams, Lawrence S. Pertillar

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Thomas Wyatt

My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]