A dump heap burning at sunset; The refuse of the day Is burned away. Strange that beauty Could come from this; and yet As I stand in the distance And see only the flame And the clear gray smoke, A picture of beauty arises From out of earth's dirt. It ascends to the blue sky, And like a beautiful veil let down From the clouds, I can see the sun -- Set through it -- in glorious color. The sun goes down. A dump heap has turned to ashes -- Only a smoldering flame remains; The night comes on; The ashes cool, and await The refuse of another day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 10 by JAMES JOYCE EVENING SONG OF THE THOUGHTFUL CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER BRUTUS AND ANTONY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: THE JURY DELIBERATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |