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From a Window

Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.

Charlotte Mew

Read poems about / on: june, green, summer, fear

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7/25/2008 5:29:46 PM. You Are Here: From a Window by Charlotte Mew