High Stars
I take the omen! Eve lets down her veil,
The white fog creeps from bush to bush about,
The west unflushes, the high stars grow bright,
And in the scatter'd farms the lights come out.
-Matthew Arnold,
Thyrsis: A Monody
, 1866
images © 1998 by Randy Wang
up
|
home
|
me
|
donate
|
email