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...DAWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IVY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SORROWING LOVE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1839) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: J. MILTON MILES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |