She went about accustomed tasks As quietly as before, Put roses in the yellow bowl, New curtains at the dor. Folding the sheets, she laid some sprigs Of lavender inside, But in her room . . . an empty room . . . She had no pride. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CITY DEAD-HOUSE by WALT WHITMAN THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 7. ON THE USE OF POETRY by MARK AKENSIDE THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DROWNED IN HARBOUR by ANTIPATER OF THESSALONICA |