This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight; The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves; The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves; And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows. Under a tree in the park, Two little boys, lying flat on their faces, Were carefully gathering red berries To put in a pasteboard box. Some day there will be no war. The I shall take out this afternoon And turn it in my fingers, And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate, And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves. To-day I can only gather it And put it into my lunch-box, For I have time for nothing But the endeavour to balance myself Upon a broken world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SKELETON IN ARMOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE PRESENT CRISIS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE TAY BRIDGE DISEASTER by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE VALEDICTION by RICHARD BAXTER CATHERINE TO GREGORY, THE POPE by MARY KATE BLAND TO CHLOE, WHO WISHED HERSELF YOUNG ENOUGH FOR ME by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |