(In the Louvre) WATER, for anguish of the solstice:--nay, But dip the vessel slowly,--nay, but lean And hark how at its verge the wave sighs in Reluctant. Hush! Beyond all depth away The heat lies silent at the brink of day: Now the hand trails upon the viol-string That sobs, and the brown faces cease to sing, Sad with the whole of pleasure. Whither stray Her eyes now, from whose mouth the slim pipes creep And leave it pouting, while the shadowed grass Is cool against her naked side? Let be:-- Say nothing now unto her lest she weep, Nor name this ever. Be it as it was,-- Life touching lips with Immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHE CAME AND WENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL MALVERN HILL [JULY 1, 1862] by HERMAN MELVILLE GOD'S WORLD by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE MOUNTAIN TOMB: 1. TO A CHILD DANCING IN THE WIND by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO A FLOWER by CORRINNE M. ARTHUR |