The flames are dying at the dragon's mouth, And the hissing head, the steaming hide, Settle together, and a burning drouth Is scorching the sorrel countryside. A night of cold foreverness must fall, Unless a comet brush us far astray, And China rise from darkness over all And trample forward through its old decay. The great gored dragon coiling on its spine With fast barbs far in the life of the mass, Bleeds slowly, but the soul retains its shrine, And wounds may heal, and trumpets declaring, pass Up flights of time, outsounding both the fife And drum -- advancing on the truth of life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEED OF BEING VERSED IN COUNTRY THINGS by ROBERT FROST THE BELLS OF SAN BLAS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 1 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 6. HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS by MARK AKENSIDE OUR BIRTH-CORD by KOFI ANYIDOHO |