If in your mind are hanging colors Drenched with waters of a sleep That might have woven living patterns, Why not weep, why not weep? If through your breast a heat is blowing Like wind across a desert place, Why not lift up pointed fingers And lay them tightly on your face? If sunlight is a sworded pleasure At your throat, and if the blue Of distance makes a cry of you, Or if the night is but a darkness, Why not weep a tear or two? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BREST LEFT BEHIND by JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR GOOD-BY AND KEEP COLD by ROBERT FROST DITTY IN IMITATION OF THE SPANISH: ENTRE TANTO QUE L'AVRIL by EDWARD HERBERT CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE EVE by ROBERT HERRICK SMALL BEGINNINGS by CHARLES MACKAY OUR MASTER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |