Futility
Move him into the sun, it opens — gently, because the sun's touch used to wake him at home, whispering of fields half-sown, and if anything can rouse him now the kind old sun will know. From that small business of shifting a body the argument widens to the seeds the sun woke, the clay grown tall, and the question of what all that waking was for. Fourteen lines, and one of the handful of poems published in his lifetime.
Open Futility in the archive — filters, lineage graph and full facet browsing.
Attributes
Plot structure
Symbol / motif
Conflict
Culture / tradition
Closest analogues
- 63% · 11 shared
- 54% · 9 shared
- 53% · 11 shared
- 53% · 10 shared
- 53% · 10 shared
- 51% · 10 shared