Her form is forward bent From years of stooping down. She is a lonely ghost Haunting a dismal town. Day after day she goes To her ignoble task, Her face is sad and dull, A somber, withered mask. Yet she was once a girl With laughter lifted face; Supple and straight and slim, Hers was a sapling's grace. And once she dreamed of love, A home that love had won, Of comfortable old age Spent dozing in the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE BROWN BABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BROWNING AT ASOLO by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON BILLY IN THE DARBIES, FR. BILLY BUDD by HERMAN MELVILLE BUONAPARTE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE EAGLE SWIFT by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR THE DREAM THAT CRACKED A WHIP by FRANCES AIRTH |