"When Winter on forgotten woods moves somber you, lonely captive of the threshold, sigh that this twin grave which is to be our pride alas! but by lack of thick bouquets is cumbered. Heedless when Midnight cast its vacant number a vigil vaunts you not to close your eye until within the ancient armchair, my Shade is illumined by the final ember. Who would receive the Visit must not load too thick with flowers the stone my finger lifts with ennui of a power that has decayed. Soul, at the bright hearth trembling to be seated, I live again, assuming from your lips my name in murmurs evening-long repeated." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ESSAY ON STONE by HAYDEN CARRUTH REGARDING CHAINSAWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST COMPANIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MADMAN OF THE SOUTH SIDE by CLARENCE MAJOR STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 5. MARYLAND by CLARENCE MAJOR |