When the sun shouts and people abound
One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of
And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;
Steel made of iron, unstable as his mother; the tow-
Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.
Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time, kind rains
will cure them,
Then nothing will remain of the iron age
And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem
Stuck in the world's thought, splinters of glass
In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Robinson Jeffers Poems
Analysis and Comments on Summer Holiday
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Summer Holiday here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.