Here even sunbeams stumble as they thread The tangled aisles where weed and thicket twine In clasps unriven by the years; here vine With vine weaves shrouds to hide the ghostly dead Of vanished springs. Here dying roses shed Their petals, drifting memories that shrine With fleeting glory of a garland fine, A haunt whence one might think all beauty fled. Yet here among this riot of wild bloom And leaf, where summer heaps the refuse of Her toil, and shadow close to shadow clings, A vesper thrush amid the thickets' gloom Makes sweet the night—a symbol of the love That dwells among the heart's forgotten things! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL FOOLS' CALENDER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON ABOVE HALF MOON by JAMES GALVIN GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SOMEBODY LOVED ME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO HENRY LINCOLN JOHNSON - LAWYER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A JOYFUL SONG OF FIVE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |