THIS night has been so strange that it seemed As if the hair stood up on my head. From going-down of the sun I have dreamed That women laughing, or timid or wild, In rustle of lace or silken stuff, Climbed up my creaking stair. They had read All I had rhymed of that monstrous thing Returned and yet unrequited love. They stood in the door and stood between My great wood lectern and the fire Till I could hear their hearts beating: One is a harlot, and one a child That never looked upon man with desire, And one, it may be, a queen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN ANSWER TO MR. POPE by ANNE FINCH A SONG OF A YOUNG LADY TO HER ANCIENT LOVER by JOHN WILMOT TO HIS HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS BLACK ROSES by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. A FRESHET by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM CHORUS OF CLOUD-MAIDENS: STROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES |