I make my shroud, but no one knows -- So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows. In door-way where the lilac blows, Humming a little wandering air, I make my shroud and no one knows, So shimmering fine it is and fair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN OF HATE by DOROTHY PARKER THE SKELETON OF THE FUTURE; AT LENIN'S TOMB by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE THE TWO BOBBIES by BLISS CARMAN THE MINES OF AVONDALE by ALICE CARY DEAD CITIES by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN POSTHUMOUS TALES: TALE 9. JANE by GEORGE CRABBE |