Homesick

The days are clear; the sky is blue,
And spring is in the April air,
Yet such sadness as I never knew
Fills all my thoughts with deep despair.

As daylight long and longer grows,
So strong and stronger grows my pain,
And sluggishly life’s current flows
Till I’ll be coming home again.

April 28, 1940

Night Wind

Wind prowls through my house tonight
Restlessly, uneasily,
Like a lost soul seeking a place to lie–
To rest forever.
Stealthily he enters my room,
Moves a curtain,
Shakes each window
Separately, distinctly–
Lifts a paper from the table by my bed
And throws it in disgust upon the floor,
Where in the morning it will bear
Mute evidence to the prowler of the night.
He touches my face with ghostly fingers,
Clammy, yet incredibly gentle,
Then moans tiredly and moves on to other rooms,
Perhaps to other houses than mine,
— Still unsatisfied.

April 9, 1939