THE rain smites more and more, The east wind snarls and sneezes; Through the joints of the quivering door The water wheezes. The tip of each ivy-shoot Writhes on its neighbour's face; There is some hid dread afoot That we cannot trace. Is it the spirit astray Of the man at the house below Whose coffin they took in to-day? We do not know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUN HOUSE FABLE by KAREN SWENSON THE LAMB, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 2. HEAT by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER SENCE YOU WENT AWAY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MISPLACED SYMPATHY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS THE MORAL FABLES: THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE CADGER by AESOP SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 18. A PORTRAIT by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |