To The Wind on Baltimore Street

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
Need I say how I forgot
Of the autumn's wind
Summer's noisome, long and hot
Eager for her end.

Then one day I'm stepping out
Of my motor car
Suddenly the air's in rout
From just my door ajar:

Where is it all now rushing to
Across these concrete piers
It rushes to, it rushes fro
It rushes in my ears.

I cannot hear the man upon
The end other of the phone
Until this wind is come and gone
I must walk alone.

Autumn I love the most of all:
Winter's bright interlude
But sharply now I must recall:
Best enjoyed in solitude.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Messages left under the doormat will be promptly decoded and a response may be issued.