SOMETHING tapped on the pane of my room When there was never a trace Of wind or rain, and I saw in the gloom My weary Beloved's face. 'O I am tired of waiting,' she said, 'Night, morn, noon, afternoon; So cold it is in my lonely bed, And I thought you would join me soon!' I rose and neared the window-glass, But vanished thence had she: Only a pallid moth, alas, Tapped at the pane for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAYS OF TIME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES FOOLIN' WID DE SEASONS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHEN DEY 'LISTED COLORED SOLDIERS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR DIXIE by DANIEL DECATUR EMMETT TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING |