Stiff in midsummer green, the stolid hillsides March with their trees, dependable and stanch, Except where here and there a lawless maple Thrusts to the sky one red, rebellious branch. You see them standing out, these frank insurgents, With that defiant and arresting plume; Scattered, they toss this flame like some wild signal, Calling their comrades to a brilliant doom. What can it mean -- this strange, untimely challenge; This proclamation of an early death? Are they so tired of earth they fly the banner Of dissolution and a bleeding faith? Or is it, rather than a brief defiance, An anxious welcome to a vivid strife? A glow, a heart-beat, and a bright acceptance Of all the rich exuberance of life. Rebellious or resigned, they flaunt their color, A sudden torch, a burning battle-cry. "Light up the world," they wave to all the others; "Swiftly we live and splendidly we die." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE BOW, FR. THE WHITE COMPANY by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE WRITTEN ON A WALL AT WOODSTOCK by ELIZABETH I REMEMBER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE MARSEILLAISE by CLAUDE JOSEPH ROUGET DE LISLE THE FROGS: THE FROGS' SONG by ARISTOPHANES |