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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=397090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Scions of Spring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=397090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The iron gates lay broken, <br>The fire bricks scattered and pitched<br>Where once the setting’s fierce roar<br>now silence.<br>Once while the chimneys billowed the stench and smoke of slaughter.<br>In the background the sounds of trains and shouting men.<br>Fierce dogs strained at tethers from urine stained alcoves.<br>While jack boots thudded on brick paved causeways, <br>behind the panic of bare feet and ragged breath, <br>the rutting continued.<br>like salmon swimming up the sweet stream, the rutting went on, <br>behind shipping crates, in mountains of excelsior, and beneath the points<br>of fixed bayonets, in straw heaps of barns and sheds.<br>Years after the grates lay frozen and the stench of the dead night <br>gave way to the lilt of peach blossoms, we lay on a plaid blanket together, <br>staring into each other’s eyes, conjuring the scions of spring, <br>caught in the gyre of the helix.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Murdock">George Murdock</a></strong></div>

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