THIS living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou would[st] wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calm'd--see here it is-- I hold it towards you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SELF-SEEKER by ROBERT FROST A,B,C by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE VICAR by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN INVITED GUESTS by FRANCES EKIN ALLISON THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY; DOMESTIC LEGEND OF THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |