Explore "Recall" by Georgia Douglas Johnson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Winter -- aback sweeps the inward eye, / Fleet o'er the trail to a rose-wreathed sky, / Girt by a cordon of dreams I dwell / Deep in the heart of the old-time spell.
Almost, the tones of your whispered word, / Almost! the thrill that your dear lips stirred, / Almost! ! that wild pulsing throb again --
Almost! ! ! --
('Tis winter, the falling rain).