Daily they met. And gravely walked and talked.
He read her no more verses, and he stayed
Only until their conversation, balked
Of every natural channel, fled dismayed.
Again the next day she would meet him, trying
To give her tone some healthy sprightliness,
But his uneager dignity soon chilled
Her well-prepared address.
Thus Summer waned, and in the mornings, crying
Of wild geese startled Eunice, and their flying
Whirred overhead for days and never stilled.
Pickthorn Manor: 43
Amy Lowell
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Poem topics: never, summer, wild, conversation, natural, Valentine's Day, daily, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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