I have finished my combat with the sun; And my body, the old animal, Knows nothing more. The powerful seasons bred and killed, And were themselves the genii Of their own ends. Oh, but the very self of the storm Of sun and slaves, breeding and death, The old animal- The senses and feeling, the very sound And sight, and all there was of the storm- Knows nothing more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUTUMN WOODS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT DICING by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS ZINNIAS by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE LAY OF ST. ALOYS; A LEGEND OF BLOIS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THUS FAR by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE VANISHED MOUNTAINS by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |