In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other's arms, seem still so that squirrels and colored birds go about at ease over the branches and through the air. Where will a shoulder split or a forehead open and victory be? Nowhere. Both sides grow older. And you may be sure not one leaf will lift itself from the ground and become fast to a twig again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONDAY'S CHILD by MOTHER GOOSE ODE IN MEMORY OF THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEERS FALLEN FOR FRANCE by ALAN SEEGER THE BLUEBIRD by WILLIAM P. ALEXANDER THE GODODDIN: CONAN by ANEIRIN A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 11 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT INGENIOUS OVERSOUL by GRACE EVELYN BROWN |