A mossy knoll under a dogwood tree, Seemed as a grove of lacy trees on a hill To hordes of ants that marched in lines, As traffic on a busy market day -- A passing man, a seeming giant, Crushed them beneath his heavy boots, And plodding on, knew not their writhing pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAYS OF TIME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES RAIN ON A GRAVE by THOMAS HARDY HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: SUNRISE by SIDNEY LANIER PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 3 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL I SAW THREE SHIPS by MOTHER GOOSE POLLY by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE |