Wild geese flew south along a rocky strand; They floated, dipped, on an unvaried course, In single movement, as at a command From some unseen but deep, resistless force. While on the rocks below, the pounding waves Each at its proper moment bombed the shore, And sand blew whirring into kelp-strewn caves In tuneful time with the Pacific's roar. The wind, the waves, the sand, the flying geese, Reflect the cadences of perfect grace; They hum a song, that grand old masterpiece Of turning earth revolving in its space. They yield to purpose in an ordered way And build the rhythmic circle of a day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORIAL VERSES by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 55. ST. VALENTINE'S DAY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT POOR POLL by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES REBEL COLOR-BEARERS AT SHILOH by HERMAN MELVILLE TO A CHAMELEON by MARIANNE MOORE THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED by CAROLINE ANNE BOWLES SOUTHEY |