Was that his step that sounded on the stair? Was that his knock I heard upon the door? I grow so tired I almost cease to care, And yet I would that he might come once more. It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me, The bitter wind that is more cruel than he; It was the wind that knocked upon the door, But he will never knock nor enter more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 3. AMARYLLIS by THOMAS CAMPION PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES by FRANCIS BRET HARTE RUNNING THE BATTERIES by HERMAN MELVILLE THE REMEDY WORSE THAN THE DISEASE by MATTHEW PRIOR PERVERSITY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE SUN IS DOWN by JOANNA BAILLIE A LAY OF ST. DUNSTAN by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 45. A LITTLE WHILE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |