What in this heap in which the serpent pries, Reflects the sapphire transepts round the eyes -- The angled octagon upon a skin, Facsimile of time unskeined, From which some whispered carillon assures Speed to the arrow into feathered skies? New thresholds, new anatomies, New freedoms now distil This competence, to travel in a tear, Sparkling alone within another's will. My blood dreams a receptive smile Wherein new purities are snared. There chimes Before some flame a restless shell Tolled once perhaps by every tongue in hell. Anguished the wit cries out of me, "The world Has followed you. Though in the end you know And count some dim inheritance of sand, How much yet meets the treason of the snow." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LOVE SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON AN INVITATION TO THE UNITED STATES by THOMAS HARDY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 13 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN VERSES OCCASIONED BY THE SUDDEN DRYING UP..ST.PATRICK'S WELL by JONATHAN SWIFT THE 'STAY AT HOME'S' PLAINT, 1878 by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. AN INTRUSION by DANIEL CHAUNCEY BREWER |