Dear, though the night is gone. Its dream still haunts today. That brought us to a room Cavernous, lofty as A railway terminus. And crowded in that gloom Were beds, and we in one In a far corner lay. Our whisper woke no clocks. We kissed and I was glad At everything you did. Indifferent to those Who sat with hostile eyes In pairs on every bed. Arms round each other's neck. Inert and vaguely sad. O but what worm of guilt Or what malignant doubt Am I the victim of. That you then, unabashed. Did what I never wished. Confessed another love; And I, submissive, felt Unwanted and went out? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN by SARA TEASDALE THE SPIRIT OF POETRY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW APOLOGIA PRO POEMATE MEO by WILFRED OWEN HYMN TO THE WINDS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY TO A NEW YORK SHOP-GIRL DRESSED FOR SUNDAY by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE BOROUGH: LETTER 20. POOR OF THE BOROUGH. ELLEN ORFORD by GEORGE CRABBE |