Alone in the night On a dark hill With pines around me Spicy and still, And a heaven full of stars Over my head, White and topaz And misty red; Myriads with beating Hearts of fire That aeons Cannot vex or tire; Up the dome of heaven Like a great hill, I watch them marching Stately and still, And I know that I Am honored to be Witness Of so much majesty.
Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; Summer Night, Riverside