DRAGOONS, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon. Already mid September a line of brown runs over them. One sunset after another tracks the faces, the petals. Waiting, they look over the fence for what way they go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET FOR A PICTURE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IN THE DEEP WHITE SNOW by ANNE ATWOOD MOCK EPITAPH ON MR. AND MRS. ESTLIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE SERVANT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT MEN WERE DECEIVERS EVER by CALLIMACHUS TO A FRIEND: MR. BAKER IS WELL by THOMAS CHATTERTON NATIVITY by PHILIP H. CUMMINGS |