Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails. (The rudiments of tropics are around, Aloe of ivory, pear of rusty rind.) His lids are white because his eyes are blind. He is not paradise of parakeets, Of his gold ether, golden alguazil, Except because he broods there and is still. Panache upon panache, his tails deploy Upward and outward, in green-vented forms, His tip a drop of water full of storms. But though the turbulent tinges undulate As his pure intellect applies its laws, He moves not on his coppery, keen claws. He munches a dry shell while he exerts His will, yet never ceases, perfect cock, To flare, in the sun-pallor of his rock. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESOLATE FIELD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS MY SHADOW by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: PROGNE'S DREAM by JOHN ARMSTRONG KINDNESS TO ANIMALS by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY A HINT FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL by PHILIP AYRES THE WILD GEESE by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 14 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EPITAPH ON ONE DROWNED IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |