Modern Love XXXVII: Along the Garden Terrace

 Along the garden terrace, under which 
A purple valley (lighted at its edge 
By smoky torch-flame on the long cloud-ledge 
Whereunder dropped the chariot), glimmers rich, 
A quiet company we pace, and wait 
The dinner-bell in prae-digestive calm.
 
So sweet up violet banks the Southern balm 
Breathes round, we care not if the bell be late: 
Though here and there grey seniors question Time 
In irritable coughings.
 With slow foot 
The low rosed moon, the face of Music mute, 
Begins among her silent bars to climb.
 
As in and out, in silvery dusk, we thread, 
I hear the laugh of Madam, and discern 
My Lady's heel before me at each turn.
 
Our tragedy, is it alive or dead?

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...