(December 1899) I SHE sits in the tawny vapour That the Thames-side lanes have uprolled, Behind whose webby fold on fold Like a waning taper The street-lamp glimmers cold. A messenger's knock cracks smartly, Flashed news is in her hand Of meaning it dazes to understand Though shaped so shortly: He - has fallen - in the far South Land.... II 'Tis the morrow; the fog hangs thicker, The postman nears and goes: A letter is brought whose lines disclose By the firelight flicker His hand, whom the worm now knows: Fresh - firm - penned in highest feather - Page-full of his hoped return, And of home-planned jaunts by brake and burn In the summer weather, And of new love that they would learn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT DOVER CLIFFS, JULY 20, 1787 by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THE BIRTHPLACE OF DREAMS by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'BUT THAT NE'ER TROUBLES ME, BOYS' by PATRICK CAREY RELEASE by ADA CLARKE CARMICHIEL SKY-MAKING by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS |