WHO are these spirits grouping Forever at my door, Clamoring, persistent, Unwelcome evermore? These are mine ancient follies Come again to me; Their feet are moving at my door Like a cold sea. My cudgel failed to mark them Or put their hosts to rout. I ran my broadsword through their hearts And drew it, bloodless, out. I called to them in anger But they cried back in scorn: "O but for you, O but for you We had never been born!" And so I threw my cudgel down, I broke my broadsword's blade And sang a simple song or two About a pretty maid; And all my ghostly visitors Went swift away from me: Their feet no longer haunt my door Like a cold sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THEY PRAISE THE SUN by JOHN CROWE RANSOM ODE: THE MEDITERRANEAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE UNDERGRADUATE KILLED IN BATTLE; OXFORD, 1915 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |