KISSING her hair, I sat against her feet: Wove and unwove it, -- wound, and found it sweet: Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers, and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound, and found her fair, -- Kissing her hair. Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me, -- Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea: What pain could get between my face and hers? What new sweet thing would Love not relish worse? Unless, perhaps, white Death had kissed me there, -- Kissing her hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GEORGE MOSES HORTON, MYSELF by GEORGE MOSES HORTON A TERRIBLE INFANT by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI THE DEAR PRESIDENT by JOHN JAMES PIATT TO - (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA by HENRY CLAY WORK THIS FLESH by KENNETH SLADE ALLING |