Harry Crosby

(4 June 1898 - 10 December 1929 / Boston, Massachusetts)

I Drink To The Sun - Poem by Harry Crosby

Mad day flags crackling in the dawn the sharp intensity of drink dentelleries thrown over the mill fire sun and candlelight and at midnight I squeeze the juice of the silver fruit of the moon into the red glass of my heart. I drink to the Sun who lies concealed in his bed under the sheets of night. In the morning he will rise like a Red Indian to run his marathon across the sky.

Comments about I Drink To The Sun by Harry Crosby

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 24, 2012

[Hata Bildir]