The purple grapes hang ripe on the wall By the well, where we said good bye, And the trees are gold in the morning sun Down by the little river. The laughter of sweethearts comes in to me Through my open door, with the blue of the sky, And pulsing life, after pause of war Rushes along forever ... Only the waiting heart of me Seems to grow old and shiver. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |