Night is here, She opens up her luggage, And lo! A thousand stars escape And scatter on the floor, And slowly her golden hat box rolls across And leans against the door. She sighs! How tired she is! A pressing trip, no doubt. Then wearily she rustles her dark skirts About her and settles down To rest awhile till dawn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMING DOWN TO THE DESERT AT LORDBURG, N.M. by HAYDEN CARRUTH EMERGENCY HAYING by HAYDEN CARRUTH ENVOYS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OMNIPRESENCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE FOX; FOR ANN PEARN by EDITH SITWELL |