I can wade Grief - Whole Pools of it - I'm used to that - But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet - And I tip - drunken - Let no Pebble - smile - 'Twas the New Liquor - That was all! Power is only Pain - Stranded, thro' Discipline, Till Weights - will hang - Give Balm - to Giants - And they'll wilt, like Men - Give Himmaleh - They'll Carry - Him! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPRING WIND IN LONDON by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TO A FRIEND WRITING ON CABARET DANCERS by EZRA POUND HEMLOCK AND CEDAR by CARL SANDBURG TO A LADY WHO HAD OFFERED HIM A WREATH OF LAUREL by GEORGE SANTAYANA |