Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AUGUST, by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AUGUST, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass
Last Line: Drifts the noon's single cloud, white, glaring, still.
Subject(s): August


NO wind, no bird. The river flames like brass.
On either side, smitten as with a spell
Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass,
Edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell
Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush.
But 'long the orchard fence and at the gate,
Thrusting their saffron torches through the hush,
Wild lilies blaze, and bees hum soon and late.
Rust-colored the tall straggling brier, not one
Rose left. The spider sets its loom up there
Close to the roots, and spins out in the sun
A silken web from twig to twig. The air
Is full of hot rank scents. Upon the hill
Drifts the noon's single cloud, white, glaring, still.






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