THE morning glory climbs above my head, Pale flowers of white and purple, blue and red. I am disquieted. Down in the withered grasses something stirred; I thought it was his footfall that I heard. Then a grasshopper chirred. I climbed the hill just as the new moon showed, I saw him coming on the southern road. My heart lays down its load. (@3Helen Waddell@1) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 3 by CONRAD AIKEN THE BAD CHILD'S BOOK OF BEASTS: INTRODUCTION by HILAIRE BELLOC CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH NOT OUR GOOD LUCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS TUNICA PALLIO PROPRIOR by MARIANNE MOORE AN ISLAND (SAINT HELENA, 1821) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |