The monarch who wears a shrieking crown Is us. All whipping tongues and words Flash at our head and doom us down: The sex of our cherubim is swords. When we step down out of our beds or doors The burning bush springs up between our feet; Our smile is bright with tiger, and the days Turn us like dogs in their drums. Then comes Spinning and shining among us like wheels, Throwing off visions to lead us home, God -- snatches me up in finger and thumb, Douses me like a glimmer, And I see Cruel to be kind to all his kind is he. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BURIED LIFE by MATTHEW ARNOLD TWELVE SONNETS: 9. WEARINESS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE WAY THAT LOVERS USE by RUPERT BROOKE A BACCHANALIAN RANT by HENRY CAREY (1687-1743) TO CHLOE, WHO WISHED HERSELF YOUNG ENOUGH FOR ME by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |