He could not tell the way he came, Because his chart was lost: Yet all his way was paved with flame From the bourne he crossed. He did not know the way to go, Because he had no map: He followed where the winds blow, — And the April sap. He never knew upon his brow The secret that he bore, — And laughs away the mystery now The dark's at his door. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE RETURNED GIRLS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS O DREAMS, O DESTINATIONS by CECIL DAY LEWIS THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |