Poetry Archives

I said, “I have shut my heart
 As one shuts an open door,
That Love may starve therein
 And trouble me no more.”

But over the roofs there came
 The wet new wind of May,
And a tune blew up from the curb
 Where the street-pianos play.

My room was white with the sun
 And Love cried out in me,
“I am strong, I will break your heart
 Unless you set me free.”