SING now of London At fall of dusk; A summer dragonfly Crept from the husk. Dragonfly, on whose wing Run golden wires; So, down a street pavement, Lamps throw their fires. Dragonfly, whose wing is pricked By many a spark; Electric eyes of taxis Bright through the dark. Dragonfly, whose life is Cold and brief as dew, Drone now for London dusk, Soon dead too. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 10 by CONRAD AIKEN WHAT THING A BIRD WOULD LOVE by ROBERT FROST POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MANY SOLDIERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TUNICA PALLIO PROPRIOR by MARIANNE MOORE |