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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ALIEN, by                    
First Line: I little know when spring is
Last Line: Who tarries when they call.


I little know when Spring is.
She goes a freer way
Than draws before a narrow door
That jails the restive day.

I've little speech with Fall-time:
Her path is swift and red.
(But once I caught a bold leaf
That fluttered from her head.)

Too well I know the bare times
Of burning walls, of cold . . .
Let April wanton by the creek,
October on the wold.

The free-born will not tread stone
To share a gloomy thrall;
And evil fate will doom him
Who tarries when they call.





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