In a sick shade of spruce, moss-webbed, rock-fed, Where, long unfollowed by sagacious man, A scrub that once had been a pathway ran Blindly from nowhere and to nowhere led, One might as well have been among the dead As half way there alive; so I began Like a malingering pioneer to plan A vain return -- with one last look ahead. And it was then that like a spoken word Where there was none to speak, insensibly A flash of blue that might have been a bird Grew soon to the calm wonder of the sea -- Calm as a quiet sky that looked to be Arching a world where nothing had occurred. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH IMPRESSIONS: LA FUITE DE LA LUNE by OSCAR WILDE A YOUTH TO HIS FATHER by WALTER R. ADAMS DUNCAN WEIR by ALEXANDER ANDERSON WHO SEEKS THE KING by LARENE KING BLEECKER THE GIFT by MARGARET E. BRUNER |