I SEE no good in anything, but aye the shadow of an ill, And behind every windy copse I fear an ambush lurking still. Beneath each simple word well-meant I burrow for the deep design. My feet are wary of the springe. I fear the under-flaming mine. Nothing there is, as erst of old, that takes my being sweet and whole. ... Nay, this is death instead of life. May God have mercy on my soul! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONATA IN PATHOS by CONRAD AIKEN WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN SPECIAL EFFECTS by JAMES GALVIN FICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 4 by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: IRMA LEESE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |