WE turned back mad from the mystic mountains, All foamed with red and with elfin gold: Up from the heart of the twilight's fountains The fires enchanted were starward rolled. We turned back mad: we thought of the morrow, The iron clang of the far-away town: We could not weep in our bitter sorrow, But joy as an Arctic sun went down. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STORY OF THE ASHES AND THE FLAME by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TWO VARIATIONS ON AN OLD NURSEY RHYME: 2 by EDITH SITWELL THE ABSTINENT LOVER by ABUL BAHR A COWBOY'S WORRYING LOVE by JAMES BARTON ADAMS THE ORPHAN'S COMPLAINT by ANNABEL HANNA BANES HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 39 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |