Few fingers go like narrow laughs.
An ear won't keep few fishes, Who is that rose in that blind house? And all slim, gracious blind planes are coming, They cry badly along a rose, To leap is stuffy, to crawl was tender.
Faced with this poem, any competent modern critic could easily go to work. He might first allude to its use of alliteration ("few fishes," "few fingers"). Clearly the poem deals with the plight of modern man reaching out for love and innocence but mocked by impending death. Love is the rose stifling in the blind house of modern technology. Note the...
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