NEITHER in passion nor in play, But dreamily, half unaware, We kissed as drowsy children may, Sliding to sleep from evening prayer. So brief, so calm, the passing touch That meant so little -- and so much. FOR memory sees the wondrous thing The moment stood too near to know. The fragile innocence of spring I thought had faded long ago, Our quiet lips found blossoming yet Like an October violet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH UPON A CHILD THAT DIED by ROBERT HERRICK ON A GRAVE AT GRINDELWALD by FREDERICK WILLIAM HENRY MYERS THE TEMPERAMENTS by EZRA POUND THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE WORKHOUSE by GEORGE ROBERT SIMS TO FOREIGN LANDS by WALT WHITMAN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 23. SOONER WOUNDED THAN CURED by PHILIP AYRES THE SONG THAT SHALL ATONE by KATHARINE LEE BATES EPISTLE TO MR. M'ADAM; IN ANSWER TO AN OBLIGING LETTER ... by ROBERT BURNS |