Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DEVILS, by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Storm-clouds whirl and storm-clouds scurry Last Line: Nearly tear my heart in twain. Alternate Author Name(s): Pushkin, Alexander; Poushkin, Aleksander Sergyevich Variant Title(s): Demons | ||||||||
STORM-CLOUDS whirl and storm-clouds scurry; From behind them pale moonlight Flickers where the snowflakes hurry. Dark the sky, and dark the night. On and on the sleigh still bears me; Ding-ding-ding the small bell's sound. Though I would not, something scares me In the unknown plains around. "Go on, driver!" ... "I can't go, sir. Horses find it hard to pull, And my eyes are blind with snow, sir; Drifts have blocked the whole road full. Strike me, but I search it vainly! We are lost! What's to be done? 'Tis a devil leads us, plainly,-- From the road would have us gone. "Over there -- Look! See him playing, Blowing, spitting in my eye. In the ditch he sends a-straying This poor horse, and makes him shy. Like a milestone weird he glimmered; There in front he stood upright; Like a tiny spark he shimmered, Vanished in the empty night." Storm-clouds whirl and storm-clouds scurry; From behind them pale moonlight Flickers where the snowflakes hurry. Dark the sky, and dark the night. Tired, we have no strength for wheeling. Bell stops jingling, suddenly. Halt. ... "What is the plain concealing? Who can tell you? Wolf or tree?" Blizzard angry, blizzard crying, Horses start and snort in fear. Farther on again he's flying; In the night his eyes burn clear. Horses now go forward, straining; Ding-ding-ding, the small bell's sound. There I see the phantoms gaining In the plain that whitens round. Fiends past number, formless, curling In the play of dim moonlight -- Demons manifold are whirling, Like November leaves in flight! Crowds of them! Where do they hurry? Why this song in mournful pitch? Is it Brownie that they bury? Make they marriage for a witch? Storm-clouds whirl and storm-clouds scurry; From behind them pale moonlight Flickers where the snowflakes hurry. Dark the sky, and dark the night. Onward run the devils, sailing In the measureless inane, And their howls and mournful wailing Nearly tear my heart in twain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NEREID (2) by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN A PRAYER by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN ANGEL by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN ELEGY by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN FOREBODING by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN GIRLS' SONG by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN MADONNA by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN MESSAGE TO SIBERIA by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN MONUMENT by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN NIGHT PIECE by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN ON THE DEATH OF AMALIA RIZNICH by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN |
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