Cezanne
Our door was shut to the noon-day heat. We could not see him. We might not have heard him either— Resting, dozing, dreaming pleasantly. But his step was tremendous— Are mountains on the march? He was no man who passed; But a great faithful horse Dragging a load Up the hill.
Credit
This poem is in the public domain.
Author
Alfred Kreymborg

Alfred Kreymborg was born on December 10, 1883, in New York City.
Date Published: 1916-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/cezanne