A PURPLE cloud hangs half-way down; Sky, yellow gold below; The naked trees, beyond the town, Like masts against it show, -- Bare masts and spars of our earth-ship, With shining snow-sails furled; And through the sea of space we slip, That flows all round the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PHONECALL FROM FRANK O'HARA by ANNE WALDMAN TO THE BOY by ELIZABETH CLEMENTINE DODGE KINNEY LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ANNIE WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860 by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE THE POOR MAN'S PIG by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 1. ORIGINAL THEME AS PAYNE WROTE IT by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |