THE rain smites more and more, The east wind snarls and sneezes; Through the joints of the quivering door The water wheezes. The tip of each ivy-shoot Writhes on its neighbour's face; There is some hid dread afoot That we cannot trace. Is it the spirit astray Of the man at the house below Whose coffin they took in to-day? We do not know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARCHITECT AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA by KAREN SWENSON PHILOSOPHIES by MADELEINE AARON SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 2 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON MATRIMONIAL MELODIES: 3. SYSTEM by BERTON BRALEY |