On the edge of the town See the old barn sag With a drop in its ridge Like a sway-backed nag, And the shingles torn By the west wind's will Fly from the skeleton rafters Until You may count its starved ribs, One by one; Old barn, old horse, Your day is done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE SECOND CANTO, OR FIRST QUARTER by WILLIAM BASSE COMING (APRIL, 1861) by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL THE NARROW WAY by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. SURELY THE TIME WILL COME by EDWARD CARPENTER THE CLEAR BLUE by JEAN COCTEAU EPISTLES BETWEEN J.S. AND ROBERT FERGUSSON: ANSWER TO J.S.'S EPISTLE by ROBERT FERGUSSON |