SHE seemed an angel to our infant eyes! Once, when the glorifying moon revealed Her who at evening by our pillow kneeled-- Soft-voiced and golden-haired, from holy skies Flown to her loves on wings of Paradise-- We looked to see the pinions half-concealed. The Tuscan vines and olives will not yield. Her back to me, who loved her in this wise, And since have little known her, but have grown To see another mother, tenderly, Watch over sleeping darlings of her own; Perchance the years have changed her; yet alone This picture lingers: still she seems to me The fair, young Angel of my infancy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS by JOHN JEROME ROONEY IMAGES: 6 by RICHARD ALDINGTON THE SPIRIT'S WARFARE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON TURNING A STONE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN IN TRAVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON A TOAST, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY by ROBERT BURNS ANSWER TO LINES WRITTEN IN ROUSSEAU'S LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |