"Turn to page ten in your arithmetics." Rustle of yellow pages like a snake Among old leaves. The small boy tries to make His mind go through its jumbled bag of tricks. But how can he lay hands on eight times six When mountains fill the window and a lake Nudges his dreams, when autumn and the ache Of color, noon, and the numbers meet and mix? Puzzled, he asks the tree-tops, but the sun Covers his desk with blots and yellow scrawls. A woodchuck mocks him. If he had a gun! Last year he brought down two of them. The walls Dissolve. Vague thoughts bemuse him, one by one, As numberless and nameless as their calls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WATER by HAYDEN CARRUTH A DREAM OF JULIUS CAESAR by ROBERT FROST NOTES FOR THE FIRST LINE OF A SPANISH POEM by JAMES GALVIN HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 2 by EZRA POUND PROSIT NEUJAHR by GEORGE SANTAYANA |