SHE was not as pretty as women I know, And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow Drop to shade, melt to naught in the long-trodden ways, While she's still remembered on warm and cold days-- My Kate. Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace; You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face: And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth, You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth-- My Kate. Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke, You looked at her silence and fancied she spoke: When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone, Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone-- My Kate. I doubt if she said to you much that could act As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract In the sense of the brilliant or wise: I infer 'Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her-- My Kate. She never found fault with you, never implied Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town The children were gladder that pulled at her gown-- My Kate. None knelt at her feet confessed lovers in thrall; They knelt more to God than they used,--that was all: If you praised her as charming, some asked what you meant, But the charm of her presence was felt when she went-- My Kate. The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude, She took them as she found them, and did them all good; It was always so with her--see what you have! She has made the grass greener even here .. with her grave-- My Kate. My dear one!--when thou wast alive with the rest, I held thee the sweetest and loved thee the best: And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart-- My Kate? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWEET CLOVER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AN ANATOMY OF THE WORLD: THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY by JOHN DONNE EPIGRAM: 118. ON GUT by BEN JONSON FIRST OF MAY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DESERT BRIDE by MARY MILLER BEARD |