There is a warm brownness In the wide flat fields With naked trees And fences. There is a gesture of abundance In the stolid silos, Large wood barns And houses. Yet these cannot supercede The blue cold tops of hills And steep ravines Of my New England. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HILL WIFE: THE IMPULSE by ROBERT FROST PIANO by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE CITY IN THE SEA by EDGAR ALLAN POE MARY'S GIRLHOOD (FOR A PICTURE): 1 by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 30 by ALFRED TENNYSON LEE TO THE REAR [MAY 12, 1864] by JOHN REUBEN THOMPSON SONNETS FROM SERIES RELATING TO EDGAR ALLEN POE: 1 by SARAH HELEN POWER WHITMAN |