MY love looks like a girl to-night, But she is old. The plaits that lie along her pillow Are not gold, But threaded with filigree, And uncanny cold. She looks like a young maiden, since her brow Is smooth and fair, Her cheeks are very smooth, her eyes are closed, She sleeps a rare Still winsome sleep, so still, and so composed. Nay, but she sleeps like a bride, and dreams her dreams Of perfect things. She lies at last, the darling, in the shape of her dream, And her dead mouth sings By its shape, like the thrushes in clear evenings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRAYER OF COLUMBUS by WALT WHITMAN COMPARISON OF LOVE TO A STREAM FALLING FROM THE ALPS by THOMAS WYATT THE ADORATION OF DISK BY KING AKHNATEN AND PRINCESS NEFER NEFERIU ATEN by AKHENATEN PEBBLES by KENNETH SLADE ALLING PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 70, 71. MUKADDIM, MUWAKHIR by EDWIN ARNOLD |