Tuesday, November 14, 2023

Between the Boughs, a Window's Light

 The Window on the Hill
by Madison Cawein  

Among the fields the camomile
 Seems blown mist in the lightning's glare:
 Cool, rainy odors drench the air;
 Night speaks above; the angry smile
 Of storm within her stare. 

 The way that I shall take to-night
 Is through the wood whose branches fill
 The road with double darkness, till,
 Between the boughs, a window's light
 Shines out upon the hill. 

 The fence; and then the path that goes
 Around a trailer-tangled rock,
 Through puckered pink and hollyhock,
 Unto a latch-gate's unkempt rose,
 And door whereat I knock. 

 Bright on the oldtime flower place
 The lamp streams through the foggy pane;
 The door is opened to the rain:
 And in the door -- her happy face
 And outstretched arms again.