Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, RHYTHM, by AMY BOWER



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RHYTHM, by            
First Line: Wild geese flew south along a rocky strand
Last Line: And build the rhythmic circle of a day.


Wild geese flew south along a rocky strand;
They floated, dipped, on an unvaried course,
In single movement, as at a command
From some unseen but deep, resistless force.
While on the rocks below, the pounding waves
Each at its proper moment bombed the shore,
And sand blew whirring into kelp-strewn caves
In tuneful time with the Pacific's roar.

The wind, the waves, the sand, the flying geese,
Reflect the cadences of perfect grace;
They hum a song, that grand old masterpiece
Of turning earth revolving in its space.
They yield to purpose in an ordered way
And build the rhythmic circle of a day.





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