Form is the woods: the beast, a bobcat padding through red sumac, the pheasant in brake or goldenrod that he stalks -- both rise to the flush, the brief low flutter and catch in air; and trees, rich green, the moving of boughs and the separate leaf, yield to conclusions they do not care about or watch -- the dead, frayed bird, the beautiful plumage, the spoor of feathers and slight, pink bones. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN THE POLAR QUEST by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MADAGASCAR: AUBADE by WILLIAM DAVENANT HASTE NOT! REST NOT! by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE SONNET: 20 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 6 by WALT WHITMAN |