WITH sanguine looks And rolling walk Among the rooks He loved to stalk, While on the land With gusty laugh From a full hand He scattered chaff. Now that within His spirit sleeps A harvest thin The sickle reaps; But the dumb fields Desire his tread, And no earth yields A wheat more red. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON OF OCHILTREE by ROBERT BURNS ON EXPLORATION by JAMES GALVIN SONNET: 10 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY AMOR MUNDI by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |