My Dreams My Works Must Wait Till After Hell

 I hold my honey and I store my bread 
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
 
I label clearly, and each latch and lid 
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
 
I am very hungry.
 I am incomplete.
 
And none can give me any word but Wait, 
The puny light.
 I keep my eyes pointed in; 
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt 
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume 
On such legs as are left me, in such heart 
As I can manage, remember to go home, 
My taste will not have turned insensitive 
To honey and bread old purity could love.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...