There is a tree, by day, Has a shadow, A hand huge and black, With fingers long and black. All through the dark, Against the white man's house, In the little wind, The black hand plucks and plucks At the bricks. The bricks are the color of blood and very small. Is it a black hand? Or is it a shadow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH CHAOS IN EACH KISS by TIMOTHY LIU WHITE AN' BLUE by WILLIAM BARNES FAITH AND DESPONDENCY by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 101. THE ONE HOPE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1726-7 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S DREAM by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |