The Balcony - Poem by Muriel Stuart
A STREET at night, a silent square
That mirth forbids;
Whose windows, with drawn lips and narrowed lids,
Resent the intruder's stare.
Where winds are cautious in their play,
Where only steals
Some meager brougham on its muffled wheels
Before the portals grey.
But suddenly a window swings,
A hand is laid
For one white moment on the balustrade,
And benediction brings.
I linger . . . but, O influence malign
I watch a snail
Crawl casually along the painted rail,
Where I had built a shrine!
Comments about The Balcony by Muriel Stuart
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You