NOT, where the stairway turns in the dark, A hooded figure, shriveled under a flowing cloak! Not yellow eyes in the room at night, Staring out from a surface of cobweb gray! And not the flap of a condor wing, When the roar of life in your ears begins As a sound heard never before! But on a sunny afternoon, By a country road, Where purple rag-weeds bloom along a straggling fence, And the field is gleaned, and the air is still, To see against the sun-light something black, Like a blot with an iris rim -- That is the sign to eyes of second sight.... And that I saw! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE AT PLAY IN THE FIELDS OF by KAREN SWENSON TO HIS WINDING-SHEET by ROBERT HERRICK THE BELLS OF HEAVEN by RALPH HODGSON THE LOTOS-EATERS by ALFRED TENNYSON THE WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA by ALFRED TENNYSON |