Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?
In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Anna Akhmatova Poems
Analysis and Comments on Why Is This Age Worse...?
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Why Is This Age Worse...? here.