Her sleeping head with its great gelid mass of serpents torpidly astir burned into the mirroring shield a scathing image dire as hated truth the mind accepts at last and festers on. I struck. The shield flashed bare. Yet even as I lifted up the head and started from that place of gazing silences and terrored stone, I thirsted to destroy. None could have passed me then no garland-bearing girl, no priest or staring boy-and lived. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER by GEORGE CANNING THE NOTHING REDEMPTION by BRUCE WEIGL LINES COMPOSED AT GRASMERE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH INGRATITUDE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE PROFESSION OF FLATTERY by ANTIPHANES VISTAS OF LABOR: 3. IN A SWEATSHOP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER by WITTER BYNNER SONG OF THE COLONISTS DEPARTING FOR NEW ZEALAND by THOMAS CAMPBELL |