THE WINDOW
Affrighted, when steps pass;
One burning spray of geranium, a lit torch
That seems to touch and scorch
The blazing air, until its flaming crest
Decays to dusty rest.
Beyond, the hill, lifting its ancient head.
All usual . . . but there is more to be said.
One burning spray of geranium, a lit torch
That seems to touch and scorch
The blazing air, until its flaming crest
Decays to dusty rest.
Beyond, the hill, lifting its ancient head.
All usual . . . but there is more to be said.
Past it the grocer's boy carries his wares,
Wrapped in its vast affairs:
The scolding that he got for coming late. . . .
Home squabbles . . . and the movies, when he sees them. . . .
Mamie—and the next date. . . .
The teachers pass it—boarders at the place—
Each with drawn, nervous face
From the unending cares that irk and tease them.
Wrapped in its vast affairs:
The scolding that he got for coming late. . . .
Home squabbles . . . and the movies, when he sees them. . . .
Mamie—and the next date. . . .
The teachers pass it—boarders at the place—
Each with drawn, nervous face
From the unending cares that irk and tease them.
No, it has not seen war; though three recruits,
In their stiff, awkward suits,
Apologetically stop, "just passing by,"
For milk, and a piece of pie.
Grandma limps slowly, almost at journey's end.
The prim-lipped minister . . . friend after friend.
In their stiff, awkward suits,
Apologetically stop, "just passing by,"
For milk, and a piece of pie.
Grandma limps slowly, almost at journey's end.
The prim-lipped minister . . . friend after friend.
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