The wintry war is over, and he stands Bruised and bewildered there; Stretching his thin and nervous hands In the warm air. The early glow's forgotten and instead A softer tumult starts in every vein; He feels like one a long time dead Who lives again. Fantastic dreams, strange wants assail him now; He feels that he must burst in blossoms, rise And thrust one great and jubilant bough Into the skies. He thinks of birds and sunlight, hopes to see Earth as he knew it, prodigal and gay. ... And there he stands—an old, bent tree, Leafless in May. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN ON THE MARGE OF EVENING by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN FALLING ASLEEP by SIEGFRIED SASSOON DRINKING ODE by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE CAELIA: SONNETS: 2 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |