THEY have put my bed beside the unpainted screen; They have shifted my stove in front of the blue curtain. I listen to my grandchildren, reading me a book; I watch the servants, heating up my soup. With rapid pencil I answer the poems of friends; I feel in my pockets and pull out medicine-money. When this superintendence of trifling affairs is done, I lie back on my pillows and sleep with my face to the South. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF THE STYGIAN NAIADES by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE BEAN-STALK by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY WERE IT ONLY NOW by A. W. BELL |