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(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967 / Long Branch / New Jersey)

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A Well-Worn Story

In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.

His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.

Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.

In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.

Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: april, silver, together, song, water, red, heart, love, running

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  • * Sunprincess * (3/19/2014 9:47:00 AM)

    ........my favourite stanza..
    Now what should I do in this place
    But sit and count the chimes,
    And splash cold water on my face
    And spoil a page with rhymes?

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/27/2012 10:10:00 AM)

    Wonderful, classic, witty and very well-written.

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