The Rambling Sailor/From a Window

​
FROM A WINDOW
   UP here, with June, the sycamore throwsAcross the window a whispering screen;  I shall miss the sycamore more, I suppose,Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.   But I mean to go through the door without fear,   Not caring much what happens here        When I'm away:—How green the screen is across the panes   Or who goes laughing along the lanes  With my old lover all the summer day.


This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.