Sane, random, negligent hours, Sane, easy, culminating hours, After the flush, the Indian summer, of my life, Away from Books -- away from Art -- the lesson learn'd, pass'd o'er, Soothing, bathing, merging all -- the sane, magnetic, Now for the day and night themselves -- the open air, Now for the fields, the seasons, insects, trees -- the rain and snow, Where wild bees flitting hum, Or August mulleins grow, or winter's snowflakes fall, Or stars in the skies roll round -- The silent sun and stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 11 by CONRAD AIKEN POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER LANCELOT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FROM FRANCE by ISAAC ROSENBERG |