WE came from church, she from the Down was coming; She with a branch of may, We laden with persistence of the humming Wherein men think they pray; She winning to her faded face a beauty From the kissed buds, we having heard "the duty Performed," with needful prayer-book thumbing; We proper, she so gay. Yet, as we met, her little joy was dashed By our spruce decency; She hung her head as who must be abashed In her poor liberty; Forgetting how in that damp city cellar The sick child pines, whom none but God did tell her To bring bright flowers Himself has splashed With dew for such as she. Or was it but the natural rebound To what thou truly art, O worn with life! whose soul-depths He would sound, And prick upon His chart? Is this thy "service"? Stay! for very grace! One moment stay, and lift the faded face! O woman! woman! thou hast found The way into my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAVES OF BREFFNY by EVA GORE-BOOTH THE WANDER-LOVERS by RICHARD HOVEY TO MRS. THRALE [ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR] by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S DEPARTURE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SUICIDE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TO MY FIRST LOVE, MY MOTHER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |