I WHEN you sit propped in bed you seem to me something a poet said impulsively. And when you gaze in grave unwinking silence, it is as though they were not thoughts that you were thinking, but flakes of snow. And when you speak the moment after not words, but shadows flit softly, as though the sun were laughter, and light were made of it. II WHEN Ann sat up the sap began -- spring's guttersnipe -- to rap -- and ran; and though the trees were black as ink, they understood the sap, I think. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARRIAGE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE DREAM SONG: 2 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR FOUR THINGS [TO DO] by HENRY VAN DYKE THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL by OSCAR WILDE THE TOWN OF DON'T-YOU-WORRY by I. J. BARTLETT |