THE lingering clouds, rolling, rolling, And the settled rain, dripping, dripping, In the Eight Directions -- the same dusk. The level lands -- one great river. Wine I have, wine I have: Idly I drink at the eastern window. Longingly -- I think of my friends, But neither boat nor carriage comes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITANY OF THE DARK PEOPLE by COUNTEE CULLEN SLEEPING TOGETHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD LIKE A BULRUSH by MARIANNE MOORE YOU SAY YOU SAID by MARIANNE MOORE THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |