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Poem by Emily Pauline Johnson


Moonset


Idles the night wind through the dreaming firs,
That waking murmur low,
As some lost melody returning stirs
The love of long ago;
And through the far, cool distance, zephyr fanned.
The moon is sinking into shadow-land.

The troubled night-bird, calling plaintively,
Wanders on restless wing;
The cedars, chanting vespers to the sea,
Await its answering,
That comes in wash of waves along the strand,
The while the moon slips into shadow-land.

O! soft responsive voices of the night
I join your minstrelsy,
And call across the fading silver light
As something calls to me;
I may not all your meaning understand,
But I have touched your soul in shadow-land.



Emily Pauline Johnson


Emily Pauline Johnson's other poems:
  1. Golden - of the Selkirks
  2. Wolverine
  3. The Art of Alma-Tadema
  4. Wave-Won
  5. The Train Dogs


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Henry Newbolt Moonset ("Past seven o'clock: time to be gone")

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