Friday, October 12, 2012

Poem of the Week: Nod

I thought this was a sweet little poem.

Nod
Walter de la Mare

Softly along the road of evening,
In a twilight dim with rose,
Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew
Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.

His drowsy flock streams on before him,
Their fleeces charged with gold,
To where the sun's last beam leans low
On Nod the shepherd's fold.

The hedge is green and quick with briar,
From their sand the conies creep;
And all the birds that fly in heaven
Flock singing home to sleep.

His lambs outnumber a noon's roses,
Yet, when night's shadows fall,
His blind old sheep-dog, Slumber-Soon,
Misses not one of all.

His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,
The waters of no-more-pain,
His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars,
'Rest, rest, and rest again.'


Miss Melody Muffin

1 comment:

  1. What a delightfully pastoral poem, Melody! I can see why you chose to share it. :) Thank you for linking up!

    Blessings,
    Elizabeth Rose

    ReplyDelete

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