Yvor Winters

(1900 - 1968 / United States)

By the Road to the Air Base


The calloused grass lies hard
Against the cracking plain:
Life is a grayish stain;
The salt-marsh hems my yard.

Dry dikes rise hill on hill;
In sloughs of tidal slime
Shellfish deposit lime,
Wild seafowl creep at will.

The highway, like a beach,
Turns whiter, shadowy, dry:
Loud, pale against the sky,
The bombing planes hold speech.

Yet fruit grows on the trees;
Here scholars pause to speak;
Through gardens bare and Greek
I hear my neighbor's bees.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Nick Capozzoli (1/14/2007 6:50:00 PM)

    'Loud, pale against the sky,
    The bombing planes hold speech.'

    A brilliant image. Great poem. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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