He never flickered a muscle, never stirred; Speechless he stood beneath the stinging whips She laid upon him in each syllable That crackled from her lips. Yet in his heart a river of passion rolled, And swept his words into a groaning jam, As when a torrent chokes a rushing stream With logs across the dam. But when she flung at him the dynamite Of foul black names and insinuating doubt, With a mighty moan the pent-up tide gave way, And the jam of words went out: Words cut by a madman's axe; words brittle with ice; Words pointed, barbed with sleet and torn of branch; Words that cascaded, ricocheted, and split, Fell in an avalanche. Down with the flood of wrath they pitched and plunged, Until at last there fell the utter peace That settles on a stream when logs go out, And flood-tides find release. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE HOME STRETCH by ROBERT FROST THANKSGIVING DAY by LYDIA MARIA CHILD WINDY NIGHTS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE ATLANTIDES by HENRY DAVID THOREAU REALISM by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON INAUGURATION SONNET: WILLIAM JEWETT TUCKER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |