A PRIM old room where memories stir Through faded chintz and wall-paper, Like bees along the lavender Of some dim border; Bay-windowed, whence at close of day You see the roosty starlings sway High on the elm-tree's topmost spray In gossip order. In its quaint realm how soon one slips Back to the age of treasure-ships, The atmosphere of cowboy-trips And boundless prairies; And when the red logs fret and fume (They're lit to-night to air the room) Here come a tip-toe in the gloom Old nursery fairies. Here come dear ghosts to him who sees— Fat ghosts of long digested teas, Thin little ghosts of "saying please," Big ghosts of birthdays, And sundry honourable sprites To whisper those foredone delights Of hallowe'ens and stocking-nights And other mirth-days. Its walls are full of musics drawn From twitterings in the eaves at dawn, From swish of scythe on summer lawn, From Shetlands pawing The gravel by the front-door yew, And, wind-tossed from the avenue, Fugues of first February blue And rooks a cawing. Old room, the years have galloped on, The days that danced, the hours that shone Have turned their backs on you and gone By ways that harden; But you—in you their gold and myrrh And frankincense of dreams still stir Like bees that haunt the lavender Of some walled garden! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUNSET by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MUSICAL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR AN ELEGIE, OR FRIENDS PASSION, FOR HIS ASTROPHILL by MATTHEW ROYDEN THE LAMENTATION OF DANAE by SIMONIDES OF CEOS |