I wish that I had been awake last night When that little wind wandered to my window; But I was drowsy and it went with the light Of dawn, brushing the wet wisteria below. I am sure now that it came up from home ... Perhaps across her grave, in that tangle-garden's River-chill. It seemed that something of south-loam Was left to my nostrils; and that old grief that hardens Like hail in the heart was with me, again; The gray memory of our old meadow-fence flung A thin knife of nostalgia at my brain, And silence, as of sleeping years, stilled my tongue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIFE [AND DEATH] by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD WHEN DE CO'N PONE'S HOT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HYMN: FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY: 2 by REGINALD HEBER THE TWELVE-FORTY-FIVE (FOR EDWARD J. WHEELER) by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER THE MARTYR; INDICATIVE OF PASSION OF PEOPLES APRIL 15, 1865 by HERMAN MELVILLE ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER by JOHN MILTON |