Henry Cuyler Bunner


 Next Poem          

She might have known it in the earlier Spring,--
That all my heart with vague desire was stirred;
And, ere the Summer winds had taken wing,
I told her; but she smiled and said no word.

The Autumn's eager hand his red gold grasped,
And she was silent; till from skies grown drear
Fell soft one fine, first snow-flake, and she clasped
My neck and cried, "Love, we have lost a year!"

Next Poem 

 Back to Henry Cuyler Bunner