The Writings of Oscar Wilde/Volume 1/Impression: Le Réveillon
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IMPRESSION: Le Réveillon
The sky is laced with fitful red,
The circling mists and shadows flee,
The dawn is rising from the sea,
Like a white lady from her bed.
And jagged brazen arrows fall
Athwart the feathers of the night,
And a long wave of yellow light
Breaks silently on tower and hall,
And spreading wide across the wold[1]
Wakes into flight some fluttering bird,
And all the chestnut tops are stirred,
And all the branches streaked with gold.
<Publ. 1890>
- ↑ Wold — n 1. A wood; a forest. 2. A plain, or low hill; a country without wood, whether hilly or not.