A silence slipping around like death, Yet chased by a whisper, a sigh, a breath; One group of trees, lean, naked and cold, Inking their crests 'gainst a sky green-gold; One path that knows where the corn flowers were; Lonely, apart, unyielding, one fir; And over it softly leaning down, One star that I loved ere the fields went brown. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER JUNKIE by CLARENCE MAJOR STANZAS; HOOD'S LAST POEM by THOMAS HOOD THE SKELETON IN ARMOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DAFFODILS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG SONNET: 128 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DEATH AND THE LADY; THEIR BARGAIN TOLD AGAIN by LEONIE ADAMS |