AND now, they did not need her any more. She heard below the shudder of the door, The quick feet on the path, and she was fain Only to snatch her sewing up again, And sew, and sew, seam over feverish seam, Hurrying in the dumb haze of a dream, Thrusting away the moment when her hand Should force her idleness to understand That they were gone, all gone, and at the door They would not call and claim her any more. Young as the morning, they were gone away, Whose kisses kept her hair from turning gray, Whose laughter kept her ready. Wherefore now Should not those wrinkles deepen in her brow, And she shut up her heart, and learn to be Of her bright self a queer dull travesty? And yet, the smile they left her must not die; For crying now, might she not always cry? "O God!" she whispered, sewing, "keep me! Oh, Thou only, over all the world, must know!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN THE HAUNTED OAK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON HEARING THAT THE STUDENTS OF OUR NEW UNIVERSITY JOINED AGITATION .. by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WITH COLORS GAY by HOWARD S. ABBOTT PROMETHEUS BOUND: PROMETHEUS by AESCHYLUS SEA-SONG by WILLIAM DRUMMOND BAKER THE EVE OF BANNOCKBURN by JOHN BARBOUR THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |