The line of confusion, and the stones of emptiness. UNRIPE harvest there hath none to reap it From the misty gusty place, Unripe vineyard there hath none to keep it In unprofitable space. Living men and women are not found there Only masks in flocks and shoals; Flesh - and - bloodless hazy masks surround there Ever wavering orbs and poles; Flesh - and - bloodless vapid masks abound there, Shades of bodies without souls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE IN HARDWOOD GROVES by ROBERT FROST THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 83 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE GLORIOUS TOUCHDOWN by GEORGE ADE |