In the afternoon When no one is in the house, I suddenly hear dull dragging feet Go fumbling down those dark back stairs, That climb up twisting, As if they wanted no one to see them. Beating a dirge upon the bare planks I hear those feet and the creak of a long-locked door. My mother often went Up and down those selfsame stairs, From the room where by the window She would sit all day and listlessly Look on the world that had destroyed her, She would go down in the evening To the room where she would sleep, Or rather, not sleep, but all night Lie staring fiercely at the ceiling. In the afternoon When no one is in the house: I suddenly hear dull dragging feet Beating out their futile tune, Up and down those dark back stairs, But there is no one in the shadows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RABBI BEN EZRA by ROBERT BROWNING A GLASS OF BEER by JAMES STEPHENS AN UNANSWERABLE APOLOGY FOR THE RICH by MARY BARBER THE VALLEY OF FERN: PART 1 by BERNARD BARTON MARCH MADNESS ON EDGEWATER HILL by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL RUSSIA by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 3 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ROGER AND DOLLY by HENRY CAREY (1687-1743) BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'THAT WE MAY ROW WITH MY P. OVER YE FERRY' by PATRICK CAREY |