I AM almost afraid of the wind out there. The dead leaves skip on the porches bare, The windows clatter and whine. I sit Here in the quiet house, low-lit, With the clock that ticks and the books that stand, Wise and silent, on every hand. I am almost afraid, though I know the night Lets no ghosts walk in the warm lamp-light. Yet ghosts there are; and they drift and blow Out in the wind and the scattering snow. -- When I open the windows and go to bed Will the ghosts come in and stand at my head? Last night I dreamed they came back again. I heard them talking; I saw them plain. They hugged me and held me and loved me; spoke Of happy doings and friendly folk. They seemed to have journeyed a week away, But now they were ready and glad to stay. But oh, if they came on the wind to-night Could I bear their faces, their garments white Blown in the dark round my lonely bed? Oh, could I forgive them for being dead? I am almost afraid of the wind. My shame! That I would not be glad if my dear ones came! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHAT DO I CARE by SARA TEASDALE THE MAYFLOWER [DECEMBER 21, 1620] by ERASTUS WOLCOTT ELLSWORTH MY NOVEMBER GUEST by ROBERT FROST THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 27 by OMAR KHAYYAM TO A GENTLEMAN & LADY ON THE DEATH ... CHILD NAMED AVIS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND by PHILLIS WHEATLEY |