Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.
Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,—
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
There was a shutter loose,—it screeched!
Swung in the wind,—and no wind blowing!—
I was afraid, and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort,—
And you were gone! Cold, cold as dew,
Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter,—
Ah, it is good to feel you there!
I don't know very much (anything, really) about her poetry, so I'm glad to learn about it here. I do remember an article in the NY Times about her very narrow house in Greenwhich Village being for sale, and I so wanted to buy it.
ReplyDeleteGreenwich Village was very much the place to be, wasn't it? I'm reading Willa Cather's letters & she lived there when she was in New York around 1906.
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