You say love is this, love is that: Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip -- branches drifting apart. Hagh! Love has not even visited this country. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 6 by JAMES JOYCE CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUMMER by HAYDEN CARRUTH ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL by SIDNEY LANIER THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL |