THE chair was made By hands long dead, Polished by many bodies sitting there, Until the wood-lines flowed as clean as waves. Mine sat restless there, Or propped to stare Hugged the low kitchen with fond eyes Or tired eyes that looked at nothing at all. Or watched from the smoke rise The flame's snake-eyes, Up the black-bearded chimney leap; Then on my shoulder my dull head would drop. And half asleep I heard her creep— Her never-singing lips shut fast, Fearing to wake me by a careless breath. Then, at last, My lids upcast, Our eyes met, I smiled and she smiled, And I shut mine again and truly slept. Was I that child Fretful, sick, wild? Was that you moving soft and soft Between the rooms if I but played at sleep? Or if I laughed, Talked, cried, or coughed, You smiled too, just perceptibly, Or your large kind brown eyes said, O poor boy! From the fireside I Could see the narrow sky Through the barred heavy window panes, Could hear the sparrows quarrelling round the lilac; And hear the heavy rains Choking in the roof-drains:— Else of the world I nothing heard Or nothing remember now. But most I loved To watch when you stirred Busily like a bird At household doings; with hands floured Mixing a magic with your cakes and tarts. O into me, sick, froward, Yourself you poured In all those days and weeks when I Sat, slept, woke, whimpered, wondered and slept again. Now but a memory To bless and harry me Remains of you still swathed with care; Myself your chief care, sitting by the hearth Propped in the pillowed chair, Following you with tired stare, And my hands following the wood lines By dead hands smoothed and followed many years. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIGHT OF STARS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EPIPSYCHIDION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE TWENTY-SECOND OF DECEMBER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE OLD WOMAN OF TROYES by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 19 by BLISS CARMAN THE ROAD by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE GENERAL PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |