THE heart's not always still nor memory kind; And so it was that in the fire's red flame Were foolish things, remembered bits of blame, Forsaken projects, good things half designed; With all the anxious memories she could find Wild, laughing as of old, that woman came And my whole future in her web of shame She with her taunting memories sought to bind. I dreamed into the coals that warmly burned And did not hear your footfall on the stair; Perhaps you went to your accustomed chair -- I know the gentler mood of things returned; Dreams grew more kind, those memories less spurned, And, by this change, I knew that you were there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EMILY SPARKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |