Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derision outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am bound more to my sentences the more you batter at me to follow you. And the wind, as before, fingers perfectly its derisive music. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CREDO by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO GALLANT FRANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON NOBODY'S LOOKIN' BUT DE OWL AND DE MOON (A NEGRO SERENADE) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1839) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |