IN the twilight was her birth Of a passion and a prayer; Half of heaven, half of earth, Kin to wildlings of the air. Finely tuned to joy and pain, At a breath her mind will stir; Love may hurt his hands in vain At the doorless heart of her. Like an opal, fair with flaws, Rarely blessed, darkly cursed, She was made in scorn of laws, Not quite human from the first. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.P.: 3 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE DELICACIES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS L'EAU DORMANTE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SALZBURG CHIMES by HENRY ALFORD INVITES HIS NYMPH TO HIS COTTAGE by PHILIP AYRES QUATORZAINS: 3. RIVULETS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |