The hop-poles stand in cones, The icy pond lurks under, The pole-tops steeple to the thrones Of stars, sound gulfs of wonder; But not the tallest there, 'tis said, Could fathom to this pond's black bed. Then is not death at watch Within those secret waters? What wants he but to catch Earth's heedless sons and daughters? With but a crystal parapet Between, he has his engines set. Then on, blood shouts, on, on, Twirl, wheel whip above him, Dance on this ball-floor thin and wan, Use him as though you love him; Court him, elude him, reel and pass, And let him hate you through the glass. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADAM AND HIS FATHER by KAREN SWENSON JESUS - THE SWEETEST NAME by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX A MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY MY LIFE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU SONGS OF LABOR: DEDICATION by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |