I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky. Everything moved, -- a bell hung ready to strike, Sun and reflection wheeled by. When the bare eyes were before me And the hissing hair, Held up at a window, seen through a door. The stiff bald eyes, the serpents on the forehead Formed in the air. This is a dead scene forever now. Nothing will ever stir. The end will never brighten it more than this, Nor the rain blur. The water will always fall, and will not fall, And the tipped bell make no sound. The grass will always be growing for hay Deep on the ground. And I shall stand here like a shadow Under the great balanced day, My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind, And does not drift away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRAYER AT SUNRISE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 6. NIGHT LANDING by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER THE NIGHT COURT by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL THRENOS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PREFATORY POEM TO MY BROTHER'S SONNETS by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 98. AL-RASCHID by EDWIN ARNOLD |