Blood has been harder to dam back than water.
Just when we think we have it impounded safe 
Behind new barrier walls (and let it chafe!),
It breaks away in some new kind of slaughter.
We choose to say it is let loose by the devil;
But power of blood itself releases blood.
It goes by might of being such a flood
Held high at so unnatural a level.
It will have outlet, brave and not so brave.
weapons of war and implements of peace
Are but the points at which it finds release.
And now it is once more the tidal wave
That when it has swept by leaves summits stained.
Oh, blood will out. It cannot be contained.

Added: on October 18th, 2005 at 12:59 PM | Viewed: 7938 times | Comments (4)

Poet: Robert Frost
Poem: 20. The Flood
Volume: West-Running Brook
Year: Published/Written in 1928

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