Under the brown bird-haunted eaves of thatch The hollyhocks in crimson glory burned Against black timbers and old rosy brick, And over the green door in clusters thick Hung tangled passion-flowers, when we returned To our own threshold: and with hand on latch We stood a moment in the sunset gleam And looked upon our home as in a dream. Rapt in a golden glow of still delight Together on the threshold in the sun We stood rejoicing that we two had won To this deep golden peace ere day was done, That over gloomy plain and storm-swept height We two, O love, had won to home ere night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD WOMAN by JOSEPH CAMPBELL EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: BOMBER IN LONDON by RUDYARD KIPLING THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE; A LEGEND OF GLASGOW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE SURVIVAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THREE LULLABIES by FRED EMERSON BROOKS PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: FRANCIS FURINI by ROBERT BROWNING |