Now I again remember The winded breath of other springs, A path that shadows made From our apple tree To the playground's edge, Where figures knelt in alley dust, Stabbing marble rings in rough ashes, And heaven was a kite In a small boy's hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILLUSIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER |