Explore "Rispetto" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Was that his step that sounded on the stair? / Was that his knock I heard upon the door? / I grow so tired I almost cease to care, / And yet I would that he might come once more.
It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me, / The bitter wind that is more cruel than he; / It was the wind that knocked upon the door, / But he will never knock nor enter more.