If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees, -- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: "I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so!" If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades, -- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOYS OF THE ROAD by BLISS CARMAN ULTIMA VERITAS by WASHINGTON GLADDEN ULTIMA THULE: THE TIDE RISES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ELEGIAC SONNET: 7. ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE NIGHTINGALE by CHARLOTTE SMITH TO HIS EXCELLENCY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |