AS I wandered through the eight hundred and eight streets of the city, I saw nothing so beautiful As the Women of the Green Houses, With their girdles of spun gold, And their long-sleeved dresses, Colored like the graining of wood. As they walk, The hems of their outer garments flutter open, And the blood-red linings glow like sharp-toothed maple leaves In autumn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RAIN ON A GRAVE by THOMAS HARDY RELIGION AND DOCTRINE by JOHN MILTON HAY HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: SUNRISE by SIDNEY LANIER KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SONNETS FOR PICTURES: A VENETIAN PASTORAL (BY GIOGIONE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |