LAST night, through driven mist and beating rain, One came whose feet had known the path before; The little Love we buried stood again And sobbed beside my door. What could I do, oh foolish woman heart, But draw him in and hold him safe and warm? Why had Death loosed him, helpless and apart, To wander in the storm? O lips and hands that I have wanted most! My arms were open! Be it wrong or right, Who could turn such a lonely little ghost Adrift into the night? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TURTLE SOUP by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON ON SOME LINES OF LOPE DE VEGA by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) LUCASIA, ROSANIA, AND ORINDA PARTING AT A FOUNTAIN by KATHERINE PHILIPS ADVICE TO A LADY [IN AUTUMN] by PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE CALIBAN IN THE COAL MINES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |