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Poem by Clinton Scollard


The world is locked in sleep with perfect night.
Gazing from out my window I behold
The moon, a burnished bowl of gleaming gold,
Hung in mid-sky with azure wine brimmed bright.
The sentinel church-spire lifts its stately height,
And, where the vane upon its crest is bold,
A single wanderer from the starry fold
Shines cold and spectral with its twinkling light.

White are the roofs, in crystal garments all;
Unheard the murmuring streamlet's rhythmic flow
Weird shapes upon the spotless waste of snow,
The tree trunks stand where their gaunt shadows fall.
Blest hour of restgift of a hand Divine!
What quiet, peace, tranquillity are thine!

Clinton Scollard

Clinton Scollard's other poems:
  1. The Cripple
  2. The Mist and the Sea
  3. The Wind and the Sea
  4. Abbeydorney
  5. At Killybegs

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Hood Midnight ("Unfathomable Night! how dost thou sweep")
  • Henry Vaughan Midnight ("WHEN to my Eyes")
  • Harriet Beecher Stowe Midnight ("All dark! - no light, no ray!")

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