They sprawl in the coffee-colored mud As though they were its lovers, slowly kissing it, But one long crescent of them, dipped in moonlight, Like gray sparrows on whom silver bubbles endlessly sputter, Lies on the stubble of a little hill. The smile of one face is like a fierce mermaid Floating dead in a little pale brown pond. The lips of one are twisted To a hieroglyphic of silence Bearing strands of froth woven by little death-spiders. The face of another is like a shining frog. Another face is met by a question That digs into it like sudden claws. Beside it is a face like a mirror In which a stiffened child dangles from a string. ... Dead soldiers, in a moon-dipped crescent, Whose faces form a gravely mocking sentence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF SWINBURNE by SARA TEASDALE INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO YOUTH by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR MY GARDEN by KATHARINE CANBY BALDERSTON HYMN TO CONTENT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |