The little letters dance across the page, Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage, Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies; Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise, And let the air pour in upon my cage. The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms That whisper things in windy tones and light. They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars; And I -- I hear the clash of silver helms Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PSALM 5. VERBA MEA AURIBUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 26 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT BOAR'S HILL; OCTOBER, 1919 by VERA MARY BRITTAIN BUT THERE ARE WINGS by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN RED COTTON NIGHT-CAP COUNTRY; OR, TURF AND TOWERS: PART 3 by ROBERT BROWNING THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |