Frequently the woods are pink - Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town. Oft a head is crested I was wont to see - And as oft a cranny Where it used to be - And the Earth - they tell me - On it's axis turned! Wonderful Rotation! By but twelve performed! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONCE BEFORE by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE SMOKE IN WINTER by HENRY DAVID THOREAU TO S.M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING HIS WORKS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY TO A YOUNG MAN ON THE PLATFORM OF A SUBWAY EXPRESS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A REMEMBERED FACE by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG |