He could not tell the way he came, Because his chart was lost: Yet all his way was paved with flame From the bourne he crossed. He did not know the way to go, Because he had no map: He followed where the winds blow, — And the April sap. He never knew upon his brow The secret that he bore, — And laughs away the mystery now The dark's at his door. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG ODE TO THE CUCKOO by MICHAEL BRUCE WALDEINSAMKEIT by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE BIGLOW PAPERS. 2D SERIES. THE COURTIN' by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON A POEM OF SPRING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |