Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A WINTRY WASTE, by ALICE CARY



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A WINTRY WASTE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The boughs they blow across the pane
Last Line: That waste is all I see.
Subject(s): Grief; Sorrow; Sadness


THE boughs they blow across the pane,
And my heart is stirred with sudden joy,
For I think 't is the shadow of my boy,
My long lost boy, come home again
To love, and to live with me;
And I put the work from off my knee,
And open the door with eager haste --
There lieth the cold, wild winter waste,
And that is all I see!

The boughs they drag against the eaves,
I hear them early, I hear them late,
And I think 't is the latch of the dooryard gate.
Or a step on the frozen leaves.
And I say to my heart, he is slow, he is slow,
And I call him loud and I call him low,
And listen, and listen, again and again,
And I see the wild shadows go over the pane.
And the dead leaves, as they fall,
I hear, and that is all.

But fancy only half deceives --
My joys are counterfeits of joy,
For I know he never will come, my boy;
And I see through my make-believes,
Only the wintry waste of snow,
Where he lieth so cold, and lieth so low,
And so far from the light and me:
And boughs go over the window-pane,
And drag on the lonely eaves, in vain, --
That waste is all I see.





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