THEY have put my bed beside the unpainted screen; They have shifted my stove in front of the blue curtain. I listen to my grandchildren, reading me a book; I watch the servants, heating up my soup. With rapid pencil I answer the poems of friends; I feel in my pockets and pull out medicine-money. When this superintendence of trifling affairs is done, I lie back on my pillows and sleep with my face to the South. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOW BAROMETER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WOMAN'S CONSTANCY by JOHN DONNE THE FORERUNNERS by GEORGE HERBERT ON BOARD THE '76; WRITTEN FOR BRYANT'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE CLERKS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |