Rows of books around me stand,
Fence me in on either hand;
Through that forest of dead words
I would hunt the living birds -
So I write these lines for you
Who have felt the death-wish too,
All the wires are cut, my friends
Live beyond the severed ends.
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I guess this could be interpreted as having writers block and then suddenly coming up with this....Rows of books being those in the study or whatever just staring back as there is nothing worse for a writer than not being able to write The forest of dead words , probably those poems that he had written and sounded dead to him so he threw them away, then finally the confines of his block had been cut and was able to write many more wonderful pieces.......That is my thoughts anyway..
Sanity.
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Can someone explain this poem to me?
Thanks!
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