My window shows the March snow come Stalking, swaying towards my door; And on his shoulder is a bird That I have seen before. But he will pass, as strangers pass, And I shall never, never hear The music of his shoulder-bird Though they are very near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUMMER by HAYDEN CARRUTH IMAGINARY ANCESTORS: THE GIRAFFE WOMAN OF BURMA by MADELINE DEFREES BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |