Hopes, painted by the autumn cold, are shining, My steady horse plods on, like quiet fate, His moist dun lip is catching at the lining When the coat, flapping, flutters and falls straight. On a far road the unseen traces, leading Neither to rest nor battle, lure and fade; The golden heel of day will flash, receding, And labors in the chest of years be laid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL by SIDNEY LANIER HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL FIRST FRUIT by ISAAC ROSENBERG |