Alarm Clocks
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm Across green fields and yellow hills of hay The little twittering birds laugh in his way And poise triumphant on his shining arm. He bears a sword of flame but not to harm The wakened life that feels his quickening sway And barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!" Take by his grace a new and alien charm. But in the city, like a wounded thing That limps to cover from the angry chase, He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing, And wanly mock his young and shameful face; And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring In many a high and dreary sleeping place.
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About this line
"When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm..."
"Alarm Clocks" is a quintessential example of Alfred Joyce Kilmer (Joyce)'s signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...