As a white candle In a holy place, So is the beauty Of an aged face. As the spent radiance Of the winter sun, So is a woman With her travail done, Her brood gone from her, And her thoughts as still As the waters Under a ruined mill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONG JOHN BROWN AND LITTLE MARY BELL by WILLIAM BLAKE IN JANUARY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE VOICE OF SPRING by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 1. 1887 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN |