GREEN wooden leaves clap light away From the young flowers as white as day, -- Clear angel-face on hairy stalk; (Soul grown from flesh, an ape's young talk.) The showman's face is cubed, clear as The shapes reflected in a glass, Of water -- (Glog, glut, a ghost's speech Fumbling for space from each to each.) The fusty showman fumbles, must Fit in a particle of dust The universe, for fear it gain Its freedom from my box of brain. Yet dust bears seeds that grow to grace Behind my crude-striped wooden face, As I, a puppet tinsel-pink Leap on my springs, learn how to think, Then like the trembling golden stalk Of some long-petalled star, I walk Through the dark heavens, until dew Falls on my eyes and sense thrills through. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLOOD OF YEARS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE IMPERCIPIENT (AT A CATHEDRAL SERVICE) by THOMAS HARDY EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 20. EVER PRESENT by PHILIP AYRES CONSTANTINOPLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE PRISONER by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AMELIA EARHART by HELEN BRYANT THE DEATH OF JEFFERSON by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 17. AN ELEGY by THOMAS CAMPION |