He deemed it dead,the sound of that which flew From his once careless hand, when morning dew So softly lay upon his verdant field; But, Ah! that missile struck Convention's shield; It whizzed and sang above dead years, so when He stood on life's sere slopes,they met again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM BORNE ONWARD by SARA TEASDALE FIFTH AVENUE-SPRING AFTERNOON by LOUIS UNTERMEYER AT LAST by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MORNING STAR by HARRIET R. BEAN THE SWORD OF CASTRUCCIO CASTRACANI by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |