The monarch who wears a shrieking crown Is us. All whipping tongues and words Flash at our head and doom us down: The sex of our cherubim is swords. When we step down out of our beds or doors The burning bush springs up between our feet; Our smile is bright with tiger, and the days Turn us like dogs in their drums. Then comes Spinning and shining among us like wheels, Throwing off visions to lead us home, God -- snatches me up in finger and thumb, Douses me like a glimmer, And I see Cruel to be kind to all his kind is he. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HENRY PHIPPS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TWO RED ROSES ACROSS THE MOON by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) THE IMMORTALITY OF LOVE by ROBERT SOUTHEY SIR JOHN FRANKLIN; ON THE CENTOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALFRED TENNYSON SONNET: HER WORST AND BEST by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: THIRD ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE GOD OF NOON by IVAN ALEKSEYEVITCH (ALEXEYVICH) BUNIN |