The flames are dying at the dragon's mouth, And the hissing head, the steaming hide, Settle together, and a burning drouth Is scorching the sorrel countryside. A night of cold foreverness must fall, Unless a comet brush us far astray, And China rise from darkness over all And trample forward through its old decay. The great gored dragon coiling on its spine With fast barbs far in the life of the mass, Bleeds slowly, but the soul retains its shrine, And wounds may heal, and trumpets declaring, pass Up flights of time, outsounding both the fife And drum -- advancing on the truth of life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ATLANTA UNIVERSITY - ITS FOUNDERS AND TEACHERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A HILLSIDE THAW by ROBERT FROST REQUIEM FOR ONE SLAIN IN BATTLE by GEORGE LUNT THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE TO THE DAISY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |