Creeper grows over thorn, bracken wilds over waste, he is gone, Gone, I am alone. Creeper overgrows thorn, Concle asp entrever the grave, he is one, The horn pillow is white like rice, the silk shroud gleams as if with tatters of fire. In the sunrise I am alone. A summer's day, winter's night, a hundred years and we come to one house together. Winter's day, summer's night, each night as winter night, each day long as of summer, but at last to the one same house. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG COOPER SQUARE by KAREN SWENSON |