The Wind — tapped like a tired Man —
And like a Host — “Come in”
I boldly answered — entered then
My Residence within
A Rapid — footless Guest —
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air —
No Bone had He to bind Him —
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush —
His Countenance — a Billow —
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music — as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass —
He visited — still flitting —
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped — ’twas flurriedly —
And I became alone —
hey i liked you poem! i just did not understand the dashes-? but i am writing an essay about your poem and i was wondering if you could help me? My name is Andrew Smithgall and i am a sophmore at Winthrop High School but e-mail me back please?
Not at all does this poem suck, if you are not a poetic figure that can be enlightened and made by spirit richly, then why are you woundering this site. It is in no way respectful or needed that you comment with such an appalling pretense. You certainly do not belong here from what can be observed. Thank you for your great appreciation and respect!