Cottonwoods are limned against the sky tonight, Their fingers reaching to ensnare the moon; And in the pasture -- somewhere out of sight, A coyote wails his direful, chilling tune While all the prairie waits in breathlessness -- For what, I do not know, But habits of old years know deathlessness, And prairies long ago Were settings for real dramas of the age. The unreality pervading here Makes of the scene a weirdly lighted stage Where, at a startled moment, may appear The walking ghosts of all the yesterdays. (A grimly silent cast), To re-enact in pantomime those plays From out the annals of a tragic past. Is it for this the breathless prairie waits, With coyote's wail portending unguessed fetes? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIVING STARS by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE BURIED LADY by PAUL VALERY THE TWO MYSTERIES by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE PIED BEAUTY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON INDIAN NAMES by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY A SOLDIER'S GRAVE by JOHN ALBEE COMPARES THE TROUBLES WHICH HE HAS UNDERGONE, TO LABOURS OF HERCULES by PHILIP AYRES |