I have finished my combat with the sun; And my body, the old animal, Knows nothing more. The powerful seasons bred and killed, And were themselves the genii Of their own ends. Oh, but the very self of the storm Of sun and slaves, breeding and death, The old animal- The senses and feeling, the very sound And sight, and all there was of the storm- Knows nothing more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMPAGNE, 1914-1915 by ALAN SEEGER THE SPELL OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE AN EVENING by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM JAMESON'S RIDE by ALFRED AUSTIN THE INTREPID MARINER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A TALE OF VILLAFRANCA; TOLD IN TUSCANY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ELEGIAC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR PETER PARKER, BART. by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |