Creeper grows over thorn, bracken wilds over waste, he is gone, Gone, I am alone. Creeper overgrows thorn, Concle asp entrever the grave, he is one, The horn pillow is white like rice, the silk shroud gleams as if with tatters of fire. In the sunrise I am alone. A summer's day, winter's night, a hundred years and we come to one house together. Winter's day, summer's night, each night as winter night, each day long as of summer, but at last to the one same house. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON READING -- . by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 7. THE SILENCE by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER THE ILIAD: ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH by HOMER THE LAST SUPPER by RAINER MARIA RILKE ARCHEANASSA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS 1916 SEEN FROM 1921 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ON THE DEATH OF COMMODORE OLIVER H. PERRY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |