God-faces that once glared at the sun have weathered to soft ovals and eroded rounds, which seem to wait for a chisel to draw features from stone, articulate as lovers' lips murmuring in this tower's shade. Perhaps the lips the couples use to kiss are the residual estate of ancient sculptors worn down by intermarriage with invaders until the lineaments of their inheritance are now long lost. The farmers burn paper money, offerings of make-believe rent, to pay off spirits of landowners their great-grandparents could not recollect. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINDMILL by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A TOAST TO OUR NATIVE LAND by ROBERT BRIDGES (1858-1941) THE OLD ARM-CHAIR by ELIZA COOK THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS by RUDYARD KIPLING GLORY OF WOMEN by SIEGFRIED SASSOON WHY THUS LONGING by HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL THE MORAL FABLES: THE SHEEP AND THE DOG by AESOP |