Listless he eyes the palisades And sentries in the glare; 'Tis barren as a pelican-beach -- But his world is ended there. Nothing to do; and vacant hands Bring on the idiot-pain; He tries to think -- to recollect, But the blur is on his brain. Around him swarm the plaining ghosts Like those on Virgil's shore -- A wilderness of faces dim, And pale ones gashed and hoar. A smiting sun. No shed, no tree; He totters to his lair -- A den that sick hands dug in earth Ere famine wasted there, Or, dropping in his place, he swoons, Walled in by throngs that press, Till forth from the throngs they bear him dead -- Dead in his meagreness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EARTH'S ANSWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A TRAGIC STORY by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO IMMORTALITY by EMILY DICKINSON EMERSON by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE DREAMS (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BEYOND THE POTOMAC by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE KEENAN'S CHARGE by GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP THE PALM-TREE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ON MRS PRIESTLEY'S LEAVING WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |