Long after the used senses abdicate The flickering scene of the mind, Leaving their tangled wires burned black; And after memory, usurper, good to hate Tinkering with what is slack And dead, takes up his bare estate, Keeping all windows blind— Still in the withered fibre of the brain, Lives a bright nerve, a cable freshly fed, The sensitive high-voltage wire of pain, A humming, brutal thread, That signals what worn flesh now reads as clear, As once new fervor, hunger, lust or fear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EUROPE; THE 72ND AND 73RD YEARS OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN THE OLD BUFFALO TRAIL by ISABEL ANDERSON SALOME by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE CORYDON by LUCIUS MORRIS BEEBE LA VILLE DU DETROIT by LEVI BISHOP THE MILLENNNIUM (APOLOGIES AS USUAL) by BERTON BRALEY |