THE hoar-frost crumbles in the sun, The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black birds Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red Bicycle approaches; I wait In a thaw of anxiety, for the boy To leap down at our gate. He has passed us by; but is it Relief that starts in my breast? Or a deeper bruise of knowing that still She has no rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY by SIDNEY LANIER ADMETUS; TO MY FRIEND RALPH WALDO EMERSON by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COONEY POTTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE BIRTH OF A CHILD by LOUIS UNTERMEYER SONG: WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' by JOANNA BAILLIE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 26 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |