Amy Lowell- Vernal Equinox
The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist,
lies between me and my book;
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of
green shoots
Outside, in the night.
Why are you not here to overpower me with your
tense and urgent love?
lies between me and my book;
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of
green shoots
Outside, in the night.
Why are you not here to overpower me with your
tense and urgent love?