And, after battle, tenderer is the breeze, More bountiful the beauty of the night,— New stars within the abysmal blue shine bright, And balmier odours fill the forest-trees, And yet more silvery moonlight floods the seas, And woman's breast is more exceeding white: More heavenly is the touch of finger light, And more divine the most strange sense of ease. Oh, wind the wreath of battle round thy brow, Thou lover-warrior! Then shalt thou learn how The kiss of woman may be God's own calm Descending with a softness past all speech Thy blood-stained hopeless lifeless lips to reach; Sweeter than crown of gold, or wand of palm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEPPO: A VENETIAN STORY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON UNWELCOME by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE WIND (2) by EMILY DICKINSON HYMN TO THE NIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FIDELIA: 4. THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A SONNET by GEORGE WITHER |