Clair de Lune

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

When evening creeps on earth, the skylarks drift

Below their highest singing.  They sink down

And change their sound and slowly, sadly shift

To gentlest complaint as if a frown

Has entered father hearts.  They give up height’s

Insistent joy and move to darkened calm.

They start towards insinuations nights

Propose.  The larks begin a minor psalm.

The skylarks see the lowering evening sun.

The rays from it hit deeply in birds’ hearts

And so the levelling begins.  They shun

The gladder notes and switch to sadder parts.

  The birds are sage.  They settle for a tune

    Appropriate to rising of the moon.

April 18, 2026