Beneath high cliffs I live alone swirling clouds swirl all day inside my hut it might be dim but in my mind I hear no noise I passed through a golden gate in a dream my spirit returned when I crossed a stone bridge I left behind what weighed me down my dipper on a branch click clack | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUCTION: ANDERSON GALLERIES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER PISCATAQUA RIVER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PRE-EXISTENCE by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE MARY MAGDALENE by GEORGE HERBERT THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN EUROPE; THE 72ND AND 73RD YEARS OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN |