The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book; And the South Wind, washing through the room, Makes the candles quiver. My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter, And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots Outside, in the night. Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and urgent love? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET FOREST FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW MA LADY'S LIPS AM LIKE DE HONEY (NEGRO LOVE SONG) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: GODWIN JAMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |