The letter came at last. I carried it To the deep woods unopened. All the trees Were hushed, as if they waited what was writ, And feared for me. Silent they let me sit Among them; leaning breathless while I read, And bending down above me where they stood. A long way off I heard the delicate tread Of the light-footed loiterer, the breeze, Come walking toward me in the leafy wood. I burned the page that brought me love and woe. At first it writhed to feel the spires of flame, Then lay quite still; and o'er each word there came Its white ghost of the ash, and burning slow Each said: "You cannot kill the spirit; know That we shall haunt you, even till heart and brain Lie as we lie in ashes -- all in vain." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MILLION YOUNG WORKMEN, 1915 by CARL SANDBURG POLITICAL GREATNESS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY FAST ANCHOR'D ETERNAL O LOVE! by WALT WHITMAN THE LAST LOOK O' HAME by HEW AINSLIE SHADOWS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HOM-VEG AND BALLURE'S RIVER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |