When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves hang crowded before me in shoals on the heavy branches. When I reach my doorstep I am greeted by the happy shrieks of my children and my heart sinks. I am crushed. Are not my children as dear to me as falling leaves or must one become stupid to grow older? It seems much as if Sorrow had tripped up my heels. Let us see, let us see! What did I plan to say to her when it should happen to me as it has happened now? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN ON MONSIEUR'S DEPARTURE by ELIZABETH I POLWART ON THE GREEN by ALLAN RAMSAY FAIRIES' SONG by THOMAS RANDOLPH WHITTIER by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER WATER FOWL by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH VALEDICTORY; THE SCHOLAR TO THE ASHES OF HIS LIBRARY by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE FOUNT OF TRUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |