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| Mahendra Singh |
the Indian, but the Indian struck
out of his cloud and from his sky.
This was no worm bred in the moon,
wriggling far down the phantom air,
and on a comfortable sofa dreamed.
The Indian struck and disappeared.
I knew my enemy was near - I,
drowsing in summer's sleepiest horn.
Response: We spoke about this in class, and the depth it implies, referring back to legend. I did not really relate or understand these legends, so the poem did not have sense or meaning for me. I like some of the wording, though I think a of it is disconnected ideas. If I knew the history, they would be more connected I'm sure.
