It stumbles, numbed and prostrate, Drugged with the sticky heat, This pounded city highway, This surging city-street. Perhaps in weary stupor, It dreams, but all in vain, To be a drowsy byway, A straggling country lane. To listen in the dawning, To listen, hearing long, A bird, that drips with sunset, Uncoil its colored song. . . . To feel again the fervor Of earth that leaps through roots To eloquence of blossoms And eloquence of fruits. Till lo, each wayside hedge is A torch that flares about -- A flaming bush of Beauty, Whence God is crying out! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SON; SOUTHERN OHIO MARKET TOWN by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE CAELI by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON LOVE, DRINK, AND DEBT by ALEXANDER BROME MY CHASTE MISTRESS by GOTTFRIED AUGUST BURGER TO RODIN'S STATUE OF AN OLD COURTESAN by GERTRUDE CALLAGHAN THE FREE WIND by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. POSTHUMOUS TALES: TALE 12. THE BROTHER BURGESSES by GEORGE CRABBE |