WE sat at the window looking out, And the rain came down like silken strings That Swithin's day. Each gutter and spout Babbled unchecked in the busy way Of witless things: Nothing to read, nothing to see Seemed in that room for her and me On Swithin's day. We were irked by the scene, by our own selves; yes, For I did not know, nor did she infer How much there was to read and guess By her in me, and to see and crown By me in her. Wasted were two souls in their prime, And great was the waste, that July time When the rain came down. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 1. THE BRIGHT MOON by CONRAD AIKEN THE BAD CHILD'S BOOK OF BEASTS: INTRODUCTION by HILAIRE BELLOC MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH DRIVING INTO LARAMIE by JAMES GALVIN BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |