And yet tonight, when summer daylight dies, I crossed the fields against the summer gust And with me, rising from my feet like dust, A crowd of flea-like grasshoppers, like flies Presaging dry and dry continuance; yet Where they prefigure change, all signals must Fail in the dry when they forebode the wet ... I know not. All tonight seemed mystery: From the full fields that pressed so heavily, The burden of the blade, the waste of blowth, The twinkling of the smallest life that flits To where, and all unconsciously, he sits: My little boy, symbolling eternity, Like the god Brahma, with his toe in his mouth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER SEPULCHRE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BALLROOM DARK by CLARENCE MAJOR MANHATTAN, 1609 by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: DOMESDAY BOOK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM AND EMILY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |