We may not meet. I could not for pride's sake Dissemble further, and I suffer pain, A palpable distinct and physical ache, When our eyes meet by accident, and when I hear you talk in your pathetic strain Which always moved me. Only yesterday, As I was standing with a crowd of men In the long corridor, you came my way And chanced to stop, and thus by chance I heard A score of phrases uttered in that sad Half-suppliant voice which once my spirit stirred To its foundations. Yet your theme was glad— Strangers your hearers. What was in these spells To move me still? A trick, and nothing else! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE WAVING OF THE CORN by SIDNEY LANIER AFTER THE WINTER by CLAUDE MCKAY WHEN SHE COMES HOME by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY UNEXPECTED FORTUNE by ABUL QASIM OF SILVES LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 4. BALLYTULLAGH by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM HOLLYWOOD NOCTURNE by JANE BOWER THE RETORT DISCOURTEOUS by BERTON BRALEY THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE DEATH OF KING HACON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |