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...CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOON by HAYDEN CARRUTH PARAGRAPHS: 15 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE IMPOSSIBLE INDISPENSIBILITY OF THE ARS POETICA by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS VILLANELLE OF CHANGE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FROM THE SHORE by CARL SANDBURG |