A silver-vested monkey trips And pirouettes before the face Of one who twists a kerchief's lace Between her well-gloved finger-tips. A little negro, a red elf, Carries her drooping train, and holds At arm's-length all the heavy folds, Watching each fold displace itself. The monkey never lets his eyes Wander from the fair woman's breast, White wonder that to be possessed Would call a god out of the skies. Sometimes the little negro seems To lift his sumptuous burden up Higher than need be, in the hope Of seeing what all night he dreams. She goes by corridor and stair, Still to the insolent appeals Of her familiar animals Indifferent or unaware. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING STANZAS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE SPANISH FRIAR: 1-3. LOVE'S DESPAIR by JOHN DRYDEN AUTUMN DAY by RAINER MARIA RILKE SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD by WALT WHITMAN TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE DIFFERENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |