Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derision outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am bound more to my sentences the more you batter at me to follow you. And the wind, as before, fingers perfectly its derisive music. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: IRMA LEESE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS O GLORIOUS FRANCE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |