between me and my book;
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots
Outside, in the night.
Why are you not here to overpower me with your
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots
Outside, in the night.
Why are you not here to overpower me with your
tense and urgent love?
Amy Lowell, 1874 - 1925
Lovely poem, Josh. I have her "The Complete Poetical Works" with still so many yet to read. :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Thank you for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteLovely!
ReplyDeletehttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/238094
ReplyDeleteOh that is beautiful! Thank you! Because of you the door to poetry is now open again!
ReplyDelete