I HAVE been ill so long that I do not count the days; At the southern window, evening -- and again evening. Sadly chirping in the grasses under my eaves The winter sparrows morning and evening sing. By an effort I rise and lean heavily on my bed; Tottering I step towards the door of the courtyard. By chance I meet a friend who is coming to see me; Just as if I had gone specially to meet him. They took my couch and placed it in the setting sun; They spread my rug and I leaned on the balcony-pillar. Tranquil talk was better than any medicine; Gradually the feelings came back to my numbed heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK THE FARMER'S BRIDE by CHARLOTTE MEW STILL FALLS THE RAIN; THE RAIDS, 1940. NIGHT AND DAWN by EDITH SITWELL SONGS OF TRAVEL: 45. TO S.R. CROCKETT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE DAIMYO'S POND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN APARTMENT PARTNERS by FRANCIS MARTIN BOTELHO THE PHILOSOPHER AND HIS MISTRESS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |