Death's Hour
Now lips of water are pressed
To lips of stone;
Blue day fades down
To night's tone.
Green granite flings back
The wind's bronze metal;
Tall trees flail trees
Like centaurs in battle.
Cohorts of dream assail
The heart's grey tower .. .
Bewildered we go to meet
Death's hour!
APRIL MOMENTS
Structure
13 lines · 2 stanzas