I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky. Everything moved, -- a bell hung ready to strike, Sun and reflection wheeled by. When the bare eyes were before me And the hissing hair, Held up at a window, seen through a door. The stiff bald eyes, the serpents on the forehead Formed in the air. This is a dead scene forever now. Nothing will ever stir. The end will never brighten it more than this, Nor the rain blur. The water will always fall, and will not fall, And the tipped bell make no sound. The grass will always be growing for hay Deep on the ground. And I shall stand here like a shadow Under the great balanced day, My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind, And does not drift away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: SARAH BROWN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EVENTIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON REPULSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SOMEBODY LOVED ME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VICTORY IN DEFEAT by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: CONSIDER FREELAND by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. TRACE TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |