The sick crusader watches Through the window the fall of snow; She stands under the palm-trees watching The slow black caravans go. She sees him by the window watching The vacant snow-flakes fall; He sees her in the hot sun standing Sorrowful, white, and tall. She hears him through the snow telling her All in his heart to tell — Beneath the moveless palm-trees In the dead glare at the well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WORLD by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN' by RUDYARD KIPLING THE TRIUMPH OF TIME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE HIGHER PANTHEISM by ALFRED TENNYSON CARN A-TURNEN YOLLER by WILLIAM BARNES |