Poetry Archives

Hard silence he had forced upon his lips
 For long and long, and would have done so still
Had not she—here she pressed her finger tips
 Against her heavy eyes.  Then with forced will
She wrote that he might come, sealed with the arms
 Of Crowe and Frampton twined.  Her heart felt lighter
    When this was done.  It seemed her constant care
 Might some day cease to fright her.
Illness could be no crime, and dreadful harms
Did come from too much sunshine.  Her alarms
    Would lessen when she saw him standing there,