Touch me, touch me, Little cool grass fingers, Elusive, delicate grass fingers. With you shy brushings, Touch my face -- My naked arms -- My thighs -- My feet. Is there nothing that is kind? You need not fear me. Soon I shall be too far beneath you, For you to reach me, even, With your tiny, timorous toes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PUTTING IN THE SEED by ROBERT FROST THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY THE BABYLONIAN HORDES by ISAAC ROSENBERG ON AN ANNIVERSARY by JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE TENNYSON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WANDERING JEW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MORGIANA DANCES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |