At a certain time of the year a popping as of miniature artillery can be heard in the gorse. The yellow of one variety of broom is tipped with red. The broom and the gorse are the same. THE warm, yellow gorse is a child of the noon When the lava of sunlight is gold. But the white broom is born in the reign of the moon When the lava of beauty is cold. And the white gorse at dusk goes to war with the gold: By the sun and the moon are they led -- And the white is the victor, for, lo! we behold The wounds where the yellow gorse bled. The lava of moonlight goes back to its queen, The lava of gold to its king; And the broom takes again its old banner of green, And there's peace on the hill until spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETICAL ABSTRACTS: 2. METAPHYSICAL by HAYDEN CARRUTH UNCLE JIM'S BAPTIST REVIVAL HYMN by SIDNEY LANIER DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMI GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ISAIAH, JEREMIAH, EXEKIEL, DANIEL by MARIANNE MOORE HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG |