DUSK in the rain-soaked garden, And dark the house within. A door creaked: someone was early To watch the dawn begin. But he stole away like a thief In the chilly, star-bright air: Though the house was shuttered for slumber, He had left one wakeful there. Nothing moved in the garden. Never a bird would sing, Nor shake and scatter the dew from the boughs With shy and startled wing. But when that lover had passed the gate A quavering thrush began... 'Come back; come back!' he shrilled to the heart Of the passion-plighted man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID by EDITH SITWELL GOOD-NIGHT TO THE SEASON by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED INSTEAD OF TEARS by JOSEPH AUSLANDER TO MR. WILLIAM BASSE UPON THE NOW PUBLISHING OF HIS POEMS by RALPH BATHURST A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 25 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 7 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 24, ASKING FOR HER HEART (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |