The Centaur, Sagittarius, am I, Born of Ixion's and the cloud's embrace; With sounding hoofs across the earth I fly, A steed Thessalian with a human face. Sharp winds the arrows are with which I chase The leaves, half dead already with affright; I shroud myself in gloom; and to the race Of mortals bring nor comfort nor delight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UP AT A VILLA - DOWN IN THE CITY by ROBERT BROWNING THE MILKMAID'S SONG by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL AT APRIL by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS |