She kept the blinds down so it would not fade -- Her parlor furniture that just a few Old neighbors saw on cleaning days displayed, And when she died it was as good as new... Except in spots the moths had nibbled out The rosebud pattern, and the springs had tried For years to push the bottoms down -- without A weight to help their tightness coiled inside. No dents of swinging heels were on the hard Bright finish of the wood; no rainy day Had made that couch a ship; no chair was scarred Where tops had spun their rainbow paint away... What patterns of her dreams, if we but knew, The moths of loneliness had nibbled through! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE MATER IN EXTREMIS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE CENSUS-TAKER by ROBERT FROST LOVE TO THE CHURCH by TIMOTHY DWIGHT TWILIGHT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE SONNET: 109 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |