THE brambles blow without you, -- at the door They make late April, -- and the brier too Buds its pale rose for other folk than you; In the deep grass the gentian too once more Heaps its sweet snow; and the keen marigold With its small fire sets the walled walks aflare. Like flakes of flame blown down the gray, still air, The cardinal-flower is out in thickets old. Oh, love! oh, love! what road is yours to-day? For I would follow after, see your face, Put my hand in your hand, feel the dear grace Of hair, mouth, eyes, hear the brave words you say. The dark is void, and all the daylight vain. Oh, that you were but here with me again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE WHITE HOUSE by CLAUDE MCKAY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 47 by ALFRED TENNYSON AUTHOR TO HIS CHILD by FRANCES AIRTH RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD PORTRAIT SONNETS: 4 by HENRY BELLAMANN |