The road at the top of the rIse, Seems to come to an end, And take off Into the skIes. So at the dIstant bend It seems to go Into a wood, The place of standing stIll As long the trees have stood. But say what Fancy will, The mIneral drops that explode To drive my ton of car Are lImited to the road They deal with near and far, But have almost nothing to do WIth the absolute fught and rest The universal blue And local green suggest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TIDE OF FAITH by MARY ANN EVANS THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS (A CAT'S TALE, WITH ADDITIONS) by ELIZA LEE CABOT FOLLEN THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE DRAKE'S DRUM by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT ODES III, 29 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS TO THE CUCKOO (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ALAS! by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |