"MY mother says I must not pass Too near that glass; She is afraid that I will see A little witch that looks like me, With a red, red mouth, to whisper low The very thing I should not know!" Alack for all your mother's care! A bird of the air, A wistful wind, or (I suppose Sent by some hapless boy) a rose With breath too sweet, will whisper low The very thing you should not know! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE STREETS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE VISIONARY by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE BLUEBIRD by EMILY DICKINSON A WIFE IN LONDON by THOMAS HARDY AFTER LONG SILENCE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 8. THE EVICTION by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |