Day after day the treeless street was baked By intolerable sun. The moulded wagon-tracks Were rayed and rifted by the widening cracks. Through wavering blurs of heat and red bricks ached. Drouth made the plain stretch flatter and more wide. There was no dew in August, there was no shade. Upon the lake the Commercial Club had made Hundreds of dead fish floated on their side. Walking the sweltering street, "wet leaves," one said. "Rainy leaves," "drenched leaves" -- oh words like rillets stealing Amongst the tortured brain's heat-tangled mazes "Drenched leaves," "wet leaves" -- savoring the words of healing For crisp forgetful moments the spirit fed Upon cool freshness of the cress-like phrases. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN |