Crucible
Hot gold runs a winding stream on the inside of a green bowl.
Yellow trickles in a fan figure, scatters a line of skirmishers, spreads a chorus of dancing girls, performs blazing ochre evolutions, gathers the whole show into one stream, forgets the past and rolls on.
The sea mist green of the bowl’s bottom is a dark throat of SKY crossed by quarreling forks of umber and ochre and yellow changing FACES.
Poem by
Carl Sandburg
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Carl Sandburg
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Crucible
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Crucible here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.