So the summer is done. Then high and higher The flame and roar of the prairie fire Swifter than wings, with, charred and black, The mad wild flight; while the dry roots crack Incessantly in the creeping blaze Left far behind the plunging plays Of wind-tossed grass, till the ditches meet The back-fire's stifling, scarred retreat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TROY PARK: 1. THE WARMTH OF SPRING by EDITH SITWELL THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T.C. IN A PROSPECT OF FLOWERS by ANDREW MARVELL FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN NIOBE: INEXORABLE DEATH by AESCHYLUS SHE WOULD NOT KNOW ME by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY |