Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921/Nocturne
NOCTURNE
The moonlit hill
And the black trees
Where a hidden bird
Sings and is still—
Even these
Leave me unstirred.
And the black trees
Where a hidden bird
Sings and is still—
Even these
Leave me unstirred.
I am hidden deep,
Like the secret bough
Of a tree in leaf.
I am safe asleep—
What can touch me now
Of joy or grief?
Like the secret bough
Of a tree in leaf.
I am safe asleep—
What can touch me now
Of joy or grief?
For night and noon
The sky is shut,
The winds are dumb;
Behind the moon
No gates are cut
For the winds to come.
The sky is shut,
The winds are dumb;
Behind the moon
No gates are cut
For the winds to come.
Could wind from the moon
Sweep down until,
Like a winter tree,
My leaves were strewn
On the moonlit hill
And I stood free,
Sweep down until,
Like a winter tree,
My leaves were strewn
On the moonlit hill
And I stood free,
Beauty and pain
Would touch me now
With bitter cold,
As moonbeams rain
Through a naked bough
When the year is old.
Would touch me now
With bitter cold,
As moonbeams rain
Through a naked bough
When the year is old.
Marjorie Allen Seiffert
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse