(AS SEEN FROM THE LEFT FILE). My eyes catch ruddy necks Sturdily pressed back -- All a red-brick moving glint. Like flaming pendulums, hands Swing across the khaki -- Mustard-coloured khaki -- To the automatic feet. We husband the ancient glory In these bared necks and hands. Not broke is the forge of Mars; But a subtler brain beats iron To shoe the hoofs of death (Who paws dynamic air now). Blind fingers loose an iron cloud To rain immortal darkness on strong eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SETTLER: AMERICA IN THE MAKING by ALFRED BILLINGS STREET LOGOGRIPH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE SIGHING TIME by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 67. THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TANAGER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |