The stormy silence stirs and hums. Will there be none that this way comes? Cobblestones count geraniums. Geraniums count the cobblestones. Dream, young girl, at your casement high. Shelled green peas before you lie. They plump the apron white you try with rosy finger-tips to tie. I pass, in black from head to feet. Is it forked lightning troubles thee, young maiden, or the sight of me? The peas have fallen in the street. Sombre, I pass. Behind I see cobblestones count each fallen pea. The stormy silence stirs and hums. Will there be none that this way comes? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRIP TO PARIS AND BELGIUM: 16. ANTWERP TO GHENT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 6. THE SPAEWIFE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE TRIUMPH OF TIME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): AMOR OMNIPOTENS by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS AMBITION by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL |