It is the small familiar things that hurt -- Your garden hat behind the kitchen door; The muddied shoes still standing by the sill: Your old dog stretched full-length upon the floor. Your gay disorder vexed me once, I know. But now if I could wipe that record clear, I'd cancel out each small impatient frown And have you still as once I had you here, So faulty and so human, but so dear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: GEORGE GRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LOVER IN HELL by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS CREDO by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: ELENOR MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |