William Clark Falkner Poems

Her house is empty and her heart is old,
And filled with shades and echoes that deceive
No one save her, for still she tries to weave
With blind bent fingers, nets that cannot hold.
...

So it is: sleep comes not on my eyelids.
Nor in my eyes, with shaken hair and white
Aloof pale hands, and lips and breasts of iron,
So she beholds me.
...

Why do you shiver there
Between the white river and the road?
You are not cold,
With the sun light dreaming about you;
...

Why do you shiver there
Between the white river and the road?
You are not cold,
With the sun light dreaming about you;
...