THIS night has been so strange that it seemed As if the hair stood up on my head. From going-down of the sun I have dreamed That women laughing, or timid or wild, In rustle of lace or silken stuff, Climbed up my creaking stair. They had read All I had rhymed of that monstrous thing Returned and yet unrequited love. They stood in the door and stood between My great wood lectern and the fire Till I could hear their hearts beating: One is a harlot, and one a child That never looked upon man with desire, And one, it may be, a queen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE DARK TOWER by COUNTEE CULLEN PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME: IN PRAISE OF HIS BEST-BELOVED FAWNIA by ROBERT GREENE THE COUNTY OF MAYO by THOMAS LAVELLE REUBEN BRIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON LYSISTRATA: HYMN OF PEACE; CHORUSES OF ATHENIANS AND SPARTANS by ARISTOPHANES THE LADY UNKNOWN by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK WRITTEN ON RETURNING TO THE P. OF I. ON 10 JANUARY 1827 by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: BABYLONIA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |