The road at the top of the rIse, Seems to come to an end, And take off Into the skIes. So at the dIstant bend It seems to go Into a wood, The place of standing stIll As long the trees have stood. But say what Fancy will, The mIneral drops that explode To drive my ton of car Are lImited to the road They deal with near and far, But have almost nothing to do WIth the absolute fught and rest The universal blue And local green suggest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 11. HAMBURG by SARA TEASDALE SELF-INTERROGATION by EMILY JANE BRONTE HOLY CROSS DAY by ROBERT BROWNING VASHTI by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER LALLA ROOKH: PARADISE AND THE PERI by THOMAS MOORE OVERTONES by WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY |