See now, if thou have any heed For thine own soul, now hence make speed! Here in this waste of briar and thorn Sojourns one hungry and forlorn, Self-murdered, unassoiled, unshriven, Haunting these shades twixt Earth and Heaven. O get thee gone; no biding make; Lest the Unsleeping find the Wake! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914 by ALICE MEYNELL BALLADE OF BROKEN FLUTES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE COW by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |