When she sleeps, her soul, I know, Goes a wanderer on the air, Wings where I may never go, Leaves her lying, still and fair, Waiting, empty, laid aside, Like a dress upon a chair. . . . This I know, and yet I know Doubts that will not be denied. For if the soul be not in place, What has laid trouble in her face? And, sits there nothing ware and wise Behind the curtains of her eyes, What is it, in the self's eclipse, Shadows, soft and passingly, About the corners of her lips, The smile that is essential she? And if the spirit be not there, Why is fragrance in the hair? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PATH-FLOWER by OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN AFTER AUGHRIM by ARTHUR GERALD GEOGHEGAN THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK by EMMA LAZARUS THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT; GEORGE III AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ROBERT SOUTHEY SIR LANCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE by ALFRED TENNYSON NIOBE: THE GODS' CHILDREN by AESCHYLUS |