Fannie Stearns Davis Biography

Your friends shall be the Tall Wind,
The River and the Tree;
The Sun that laughs and marches,
The Swallows and the Sea.
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I am almost afraid of the wind out there.
The dead leaves skip on the porches bare,
The windows clatter and whine.
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The Wide Door into Sorrow
Stands open night and day.
With head held high and dancing feet
I pass it on my way.
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Full patiently the fisherman lay rocking, rocking, rocking;
Against his boat the little waves came knocking, knocking, knocking,
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I am all alone in the room.
The evening stretches before me
Like a road all delicate gloom
Till it reaches the midnight's gate.
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