NO more the battle or the chase The phantom tribes pursue, But each in its accustomed place The Autumn hails anew: And still from solemn councils set On every hill and plain, The smoke of many a calumet Ascends to heaven again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NURSING HOME: THE CANARY by KAREN SWENSON THE GOODLY SONG by PAUL VERLAINE TO LUCASTA ON GOING TO THE WARS FOR THE FOURTH TIME by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL; MIRIAM'S SONG by THOMAS MOORE |