CRIMSON is the slow smolder of the cigar end I hold, Gray is the ash that stiffens and covers all silent the fire. (A great man I know is dead and while he lies in his coffin a gone flame I sit here in cumbering shadows and smoke and watch my thoughts come and go.) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADOLF EICHMANN by HAYDEN CARRUTH BATTLE OF BRITAIN by CECIL DAY LEWIS TO MY CLASS: ON CERTAIN FRUITS AND FLOWERS SENT ... SICKNESS by SIDNEY LANIER THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE FAMILY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |