My heart is like an unused room Hung with the heavy cobwebs of old sorrow. So much of spring is said, But still ... keep tryst with me When locusts bloom tomorrow! The red-bud flowered thinly Going her way to purple death; Dog-wood had bridal Withholding for fall her secret berries red -- That much of spring is said But still ... the locusts bloom tomorrow! The bee explores the bosom of the rose -- (How many wasted years God only knows, And the locusts bloom tomorrow.) Too much of spring is said -- And a heart could bloom Opening wide an unused room ... Oh, do not fail! Keep tryst With bloom tomorrow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REMEMBRANCE by JOHN HENRY BONER THE HOLLY TREE by ROBERT SOUTHEY NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT AMY'S CRUELTY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNET TO - -. by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |