The classic landscapes of dreams are not More pathless, though footprints leading nowhere Would seem to prove that a people once Survived for a little even here. Fragments of a pathetic culture Remain, the lost mittens of children, And a single, bright, detasseled snow cap, Evidence of some frantic migration. The landmarks are gone. Nevertheless, There is something familiar about this country. Slowly now we begin to recall The terrible whispers of our elders Falling softly about our ears In childhood, never believed till now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE RING AND THE CASTLE by AMY LOWELL CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: FINDING OF THE BODY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |