FEET and faces tingle In that frore land: Legs wobble and go wingle, You scarce can stand. The skies are jewelled all around, The ploughshare snaps in the iron ground, The Finn with face like paper And eyes like a lighted taper Hurls his rough rune At the wintry moon And stamps to mark the tune. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: RETURN - 1917 by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET EMERGENCY HAYING by HAYDEN CARRUTH IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH A BIT OF SKY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS |