I wish that I had been awake last night When that little wind wandered to my window; But I was drowsy and it went with the light Of dawn, brushing the wet wisteria below. I am sure now that it came up from home ... Perhaps across her grave, in that tangle-garden's River-chill. It seemed that something of south-loam Was left to my nostrils; and that old grief that hardens Like hail in the heart was with me, again; The gray memory of our old meadow-fence flung A thin knife of nostalgia at my brain, And silence, as of sleeping years, stilled my tongue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF THE WAVE by ROBERT FROST BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VOLUPTAS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MARTHA WASHINGTON by SIDNEY LANIER THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE |