Away, airy comber of comets! The grass in the wind will be your hair; From your gaping eyes will-o'-wisps Will rise, prisoners in the poor heads . . . Graveyard flowers called Little Flirts Will overgrow your earthy laugh . . . And forget-me-nots, those flowers of dungeons forgot . . . Make light of it: poets' coffins Are but toys to pallbearers, Violin cases with an empty sound . . . They'll think you're dead-the bourgeois are dull- Away, airy comber of comets! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLUEFLAGS by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS CONTEMPLATIONS by ANNE BRADSTREET ECHO by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN LYING IN THE GRASS by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: FIDDLER JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |