A fine young man on horseback waves his whip at the willows he can't imagine death he builds no boat or ladder the seasonal flowers are lovely until the day they wither and fade rock sugar and clarified butter mean nothing when you're dead | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SENSE OF DIRECTION by KAREN SWENSON THE WANDERING JEW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE MITHERLESS BAIRN by WILLIAM THOM ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 2. TO SLEEP by MARK AKENSIDE WHIM ALLEY by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. WOULD I KNEW! by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |