Was that his step that sounded on the stair? Was that his knock I heard upon the door? I grow so tired I almost cease to care, And yet I would that he might come once more. It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me, The bitter wind that is more cruel than he; It was the wind that knocked upon the door, But he will never knock nor enter more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 16 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY ISN'T IT TRUE! by BERNICE GIBBS ANDERSON THE FUGITIVE by PRINGLE BARRET THE BOOK OF AHANIA by WILLIAM BLAKE TORREY PINES by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |