I will not shrink, knowing sweet seas of grain, To hold grass in my arms some long last sleep. I who have loved the fierce wind-mounted rain On rattling tile will never lie too deep To hear and bless its silver-shod swift hoof Upon my bier. Nor flame shall compass me But I shall trace again its crimson woof Through winter evenings' lovely tapestry. No greater joy -- consumed heart-whole to go Upward with sparks and smoke of incensed pine, So rival stars and fade! But marble? No. No graven urn may hold this heart of mine; No flowers, rain nor flame may stone exclude, Nor seal me from them in dead solitude. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT POCAHONTAS by GEORGE POPE MORRIS LET US HAVE PEACE by NANCY BYRD TURNER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 63. AL-HAIY by EDWIN ARNOLD FOUR SONNETS: 3 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN |