Form is the woods: the beast, a bobcat padding through red sumac, the pheasant in brake or goldenrod that he stalks -- both rise to the flush, the brief low flutter and catch in air; and trees, rich green, the moving of boughs and the separate leaf, yield to conclusions they do not care about or watch -- the dead, frayed bird, the beautiful plumage, the spoor of feathers and slight, pink bones. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JACK AND JILL (1) by MOTHER GOOSE LOOKING FORWARD by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO A COUNTRY HOTEL TOWEL by ELMER CLEVELAND ADAMS INSCRIPTIONS: 3 by MARK AKENSIDE HOMESICKNESS by HENRY BELLAMANN THE PSALM by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: DANIEL BARTOLI by ROBERT BROWNING |