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Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter In a Wood Hush, ’tis thy voice! No, but a bird upon the bough Romancing to its mate, but where art thou To bid my heart rejoice? ’Tis thy hand, speak! No, but the branches striking in the wind Let loose a withered leaf that falls behind Blown to my cheek. Hush, thy footfall! No, ’tis a streamlet hidden in the fern, Thus from dawn to dark I wait, I learn Sorrow is all. Dora Sigerson Shorter Dora Sigerson Shorter's other poems:
Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1195 Views |
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