NO one plays in the Hollow. Here are no explorers. The traders in fur trade no more dreams. Sir Bedivere has broken the brand Excalibur. No Mowgli, crouching in a thicket, watches Shere Khan, nor wonders if he wouldn't rather bat first wicket, like J. T. Brown with Tunnicliffe. Long John Silver has found the Island, where all men leave their treasure behind. There are no children now in my land; no one plays there -- except the wind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIGHT THAT LIES by THOMAS MOORE IDENTITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH POSTHUMOUS REMORSE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE TROUBADOUR by HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS A MORNING PIECE; WRITTEN IN ABSENCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE OLD GARDEN by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN TO THYRZA (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. DEEP BELOW DEEP by EDWARD CARPENTER ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY (2) by WILLIAM COWPER |