Explore "Some Verses: Sonnets: IN THE GREEN YEW" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The wind is howling in angry pain, / Ah me, and I cannot rest; / On such a night home is best, / Why does she stand in the same old place / With the smile of smiles on her cold white face / And call me thro' the rain?
Ah -- the Wind has died from the Fear of her smile -- / And I creep quite still -- / On over the hill, / To where she stands 'mid the scented yew / And where I now am standing too, / And she sees me all the while.
A little green snake curls thro' her hair -- / The scent of the yew is strong and sweet -- / Her eyes have drawn me to her feet, / And I lie along on the drenching ground / And worship -- and watch the snake curl round, / His tongue shoots thro' the air.
Now -- slowly she takes her eyes from me, / And I dream and wait, / Till in shades of hate / My love of her smile has faded quite / And I spring to kill her, there in the night -- / But only the yew I see.