Her Street
Arthur Symons
1865 to 1945
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
Alive within my eyes, I turned;
Days that have been, days that have fallen cold!
There was the house, the windows there
Of inner rose-leaves idle fingers crush,
Tenderly dying, touched with pain
Died softly, as the rose that dies.
A sunset, sombre pink, the flush
And, through a window, met two eyes that burned,
O bitter to be there and you not nigh,
The sunsets that were dear to us.
So, sad and glad, your memory visibly
All the high heaven behind the roof lay thus,
Tears to eyes smiling as of old.
Yet this had been that blessed street.
The pavement-stones: I knew them all!
How the name thrilled me, there upon the wall!
I knew not if 'twere bitter or more sweet
I stood and gazed, and thought of you,
To stand and watch the roofs, the sky.
I passed your street of many memories.
Against the rosy twilight high and bare,
Until remembrance sweet and mournful drew
Tenderly questioning, on me.
A little; standing there I saw again