The rustling of the silk is discontinued, Dust drifts over the court-yard, There is no sound of foot-fall, and the leaves Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them: A wet leaf that clings to the threshold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO AN UNBORN PAUPER CHILD by THOMAS HARDY THE FADED VIOLET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 31. AL-LATIF by EDWIN ARNOLD CALLS ON THE HEART by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HUGH STUART BOYD: HIS BLINDNESS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |