MIDGES and moths -- ay, all you restless things The dance and tourney in the fields of air: You, Psyche's postman, trim and debonair, With eye-like freckles on your bronzed wings; You, candle-elves, whose strange emblazonings With sign of death our ancient gossips scare, Or who, when sleeps the humming-bird, repair With stealthy beaks to drain the honey-springs, -- Your secret's out! I know you for the souls Of all light loves that ever caused heartache, Still dancing suit as some new beauty toles! Nor can you e'er your flitting ways forsake Till the just winds strip off your painted stoles, And sere leaves follow in your downward wake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUESTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 4. THE MOON'S ORCHESTRA by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER SHILLIN' A DAY by RUDYARD KIPLING MANHATTAN ARMING by WALT WHITMAN TO THE DAISY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |