WHAT of her glass without her? The blank grey There where the pool is blind of the moon's face. Her dress without her? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her? Day's appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her? Tears, ah me! for love's good grace, And cold forgetfulness of night or day. What of the heart without her? Nay, poor heart, Of thee what word remains ere speech be still? A wayfarer by barren ways and chill, Steep ways and weary, without her thou art, Where the long cloud, the long wood's counterpart, Sheds doubled darkness up the labouring hill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A PORTRAIT OF WORDSWORTH BY B.R. HAYDON by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AURENG-ZEBE, OR THE GREAT MOGUL: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE POET AND HIS BOOK by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN L.E.L. by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AN ATHENIAN GARDEN by TRUMBULL STICKNEY ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND |