As I was passing by A vine, its tendrils tugged my sleeve. 'Do you design', said I, 'My body so to grieve?' 'Why do you pass', the vine Replied, 'and never greeting make? It took this blood of mine Your thirsting bones to slake.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAYING JACKS IN BHAKTAPUR by KAREN SWENSON THE CRYSTAL CABINET by WILLIAM BLAKE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: FIDDLER JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HEAVEN by NANCY WOODBURY PRIEST IDYLLS OF THE KING: GERAINT AND ENID by ALFRED TENNYSON |