Glum is the sky, by night imprisoned,
As over it the dark clouds creep,
Not menacing or wistful is it,
But plunged in dreary, torpid sleep.
Alone the streaks of lightning, bursting
Through cloud and shadow, seem to be,
As they flare up and blaze, conversing
Like deaf-mute demons soundlessly.
As at a signal, for an instant
A strip of sky is lit, and Lo! –
From out the murk the forests distant
Emerge, set suddenly aglow.
But the light dies, the darkness fleeing
That cloaks the startled, wakeful sky,
And all is still… Is a plot being
Hatched in the silent wastes on high?..
(Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev)
More Poetry from Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev:
Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems based on Topics: Sleep, Light- O, how our love is murderous (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
- Nature is not as you imagine her... (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
- In ocean waves there's melody... (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
- I Love The Tsarskoselsky Gardens (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
- Don't say he loves me as before... (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
- Just as the ocean cradles our earth's orb... (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Light Poems, Sleep PoemsBased on Keywords: menacing, conversing, soundlessly, deaf-mute