I ONE mile more is Where your door is, Mother mine! - Harvest's coming, Mills are strumming, Apples fine, And the cider made to-year will be as wine. II Yet, not viewing What's a-doing Here around Is it thrills me, And so fills me That I bound Like a ball or leaf or lamb along the ground. III Tremble not now At your lot now, Silly soul! Hosts have sped them Quick to wed them, Great and small, Since the first two sighing half-hearts made a whole. IV Yet I wonder, Will it sunder Her from me? Will she guess that I said 'Yes,' - that His I'd be, Ere I thought she might not see him as I see! V Old brown gable, Granary, stable, Here you are! O my mother, Can another Ever bar Mine from thy heart, make thy nearness seem afar? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PURPLE COW by FRANK GELETT BURGESS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LUCINDA MATLOCK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE THE SODA-WATER SLOT-MACHINE by BELLA AKHMADULINA ECHO SONG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LAST MAN: SWEET TO DIE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PENT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |