Creeper grows over thorn, bracken wilds over waste, he is gone, Gone, I am alone. Creeper overgrows thorn, Concle asp entrever the grave, he is one, The horn pillow is white like rice, the silk shroud gleams as if with tatters of fire. In the sunrise I am alone. A summer's day, winter's night, a hundred years and we come to one house together. Winter's day, summer's night, each night as winter night, each day long as of summer, but at last to the one same house. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. BURKE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS 1914: 2. SAFETY by RUPERT BROOKE SEA GODS: 2 by HILDA DOOLITTLE AN ODE UPON A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE FOREVER by EDWARD HERBERT THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |