|
|
|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FUGITIVES, by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS First Line: We are they that go, that go Last Line: The headlong haste that looks not back! Alternate Author Name(s): Wilkinson, Florence | |||
We are they that go, that go, Plunging before the hidden blow. We run the byways of the earth, For we are fugitive from birth, Blindfolded, with wide hands abroad That sow, that sow the sullen sod. We cannot wait, we cannot stop For flushing field or quickened crop; The orange bow of dusky dawn Glimmers our smoking swath upon; Blindfolded still we hurry on. How we do know the ways we run That are blindfolded from the sun? We stagger swiftly to the call, Our wide hands feeling for the wall. Oh, ye who climb to some clear heaven, By grace of day and leisure given, Pity us, fugitive and driven -- The lithe whip curling on our track, The headlong haste that looks not back! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOYS AND GIRLS by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS BROADWAY REMEMBERS HER CHILDHOOD by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS NEW YORK by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS STUDENTS [IN PARIS] by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE ANGEL OF THE CORNICE by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE CURB-BROKERS by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE FLOWER FACTORY by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE HEART OF THE WOODS by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE HEART'S COUNTRY by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS THE HOUSE OF GREAAT CONTENT by FLORENCE WILKINSON EVANS |
| |