O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily; Your dim lips as your lids unclose .Murmur your own sad threnody. O as the soft and frail lights break Upon your eyelids, and your eyes Wider and wider grow and wake, The old pale glory dies. And then, as sleep lies down to sleep And all her dreams lie somewhere dead, The iron shepherd leads his sheep To pastures parched whose green is shed. Still, O frail dawn, still in your hair And your cold eyes and sad sweet lips, The ghosts of all the dreams are there, To fade like passing ships. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RHYME FOR A CHILD VIEWING A NAKED VENUS IN A PAINTING by ROBERT BROWNING THE BOUGH OF NONSENSE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE WEEDS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE SEA by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER LIVE BLINDLY; SONNET by TRUMBULL STICKNEY CLEOPATRA by WILLIAM WETMORE STORY |