Above the busy world at dusk I know Each day an hour of happiness complete, For then I sit within the window-seat And dream of home, and Her, and long ago. The silence in the city far below, The sunset as it glorifies the street, Each to my homesick heart is ever sweet As the soft winds that wander to and fro. There oftentimes the blessed memory Of other days makes glad the dark for me; I hear the happy singing of the birds In bowers of bloom, I breathe the fragrance borne Across the world from out the Orient morn, And listening I hear again Her words. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST MY BOY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 12 by EZRA POUND |