THE wind blew words along the skies, And these it blew to me Through the wide dusk: 'Lift up your eyes, Behold this troubled tree, Complaining as it sways and plies; It is a limb of thee. 'Yea, too, the creatures sheltering round - Dumb figures, wild and tame, Yea, too, thy fellows who abound - Either of speech the same Or far and strange - black, dwarfed, and browned, They are stuff of thy own frame.' I moved on in a surging awe Of inarticulateness At the pathetic Me I saw In all his huge distress, Making self-slaughter of the law To kill, break, or suppress. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: 14. TO WILLIAM CAMDEN by BEN JONSON DYING SPEECH OF AN OLD PHILOSOPHER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ON THE SLAIN AT CHICKAMAUGA by HERMAN MELVILLE THE UNSCARRED FIGHTER REMEMBERS FRANCE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING ST. HELENA by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER TO MY HONOURED FRIEND MR. DRAYTON; AFFIXED TO 'POLYOLBION' by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) AURORA LEIGH: BOOK 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |