What in this heap in which the serpent pries, Reflects the sapphire transepts round the eyes -- The angled octagon upon a skin, Facsimile of time unskeined, From which some whispered carillon assures Speed to the arrow into feathered skies? New thresholds, new anatomies, New freedoms now distil This competence, to travel in a tear, Sparkling alone within another's will. My blood dreams a receptive smile Wherein new purities are snared. There chimes Before some flame a restless shell Tolled once perhaps by every tongue in hell. Anguished the wit cries out of me, "The world Has followed you. Though in the end you know And count some dim inheritance of sand, How much yet meets the treason of the snow." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOONLIT APPLES by JOHN DRINKWATER REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S WOOING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BURNING BABE by ROBERT SOUTHWELL A PETITION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT THE FIRESIDE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |