WHAT thought is folded in thy leaves! What tender thought, what speechless pain! I hold thy faded lips to mine, Thou darling of the April rain! I hold thy faded lips to mine, Though scent and azure tint are fled -- O dry, mute lips! ye are the type Of something in me cold and dead: Of something wilted like thy leaves; Of fragrance flown, of beauty dim; Yet, for the love of those white hands That found thee by a river's brim -- That found thee when thy dewy mouth Was purpled as with stains of wine -- For love of her who love forgot, I hold thy faded lips to mine. That thou shouldst live when I am dead, When hate is dead, for me, and wrong, For this, I use my subtlest art, For this, I fold thee in my song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINCOLN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE RUINS OF A COUNTRY INN by PHILIP FRENEAU THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND BELOVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SEADRIFT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO THE OBELISK DURING THE GREAT FROST, 1881 by MATHILDE BLIND THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN - PROLOGUE FOR MISS FONTENELLE by ROBERT BURNS |