And now— As one who closes up the house and goes uncaring where He may forget the scenes of home 'mid foreign climes and air, I bar the chamber of my heart and seal the past within To wander down the city's road amid the whirr and din. The long years seem impassable, the morning has no smile, With naught behind these barring doors and nothing else worth while, Like some lone pilgrim without hope, I stumble on my way, Who lifts no futile plea for sun, but asks for clouds less grey. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HERETIC: 4. HUMILITY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER TO MOSCOW by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR SONNET by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS NIGHT-WIND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MOTHERHOOD by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |