Who Was It Swept Against my Door
Who was it swept against my door just now,
With rustling robes like Autumn’s-was it thou?
Ah! would it were thy gown against my door–
Only thy gown once more.
Sometimes the snow, sometimes the fluttering breath
Of April, as toward May she wandereth,
Make me a moment think that it is thou–
But yet it is not thou!
