 | Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay |  |
252
THE STORM-FLOWER
THE STORM-FLOWER BLOOMS BY THE OUTER MOATOF MY CASTLE OF LOVE, WHILE THE PERILOUS RAIN
SHRIEKS AND BEATS AT THE GRANITE WALLS,
AT THE DOORS, AT EACH THICK WINDOW-PANE
BUT IN THE KEEP, STILL, STILL, AND DEEP
MY SWEET LOVE WAITS IN IVORY ROOMS:
SHE WEARS NEW SILK FROM FAIRY LOOMS:
OUR LIPS BURN SWEETLY, WITHOUT FEAR:
OUR NEST IS STILL. I HEAR HER SIGH,—
AND WHAT CARE I, IF THE STORM-FLOWER BLOOMS?
| Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | |