NOW when I came to that first stile ('Twas spring again, my dear) I raised my head, and thanked my God; I spoke it loud and clear. When to the second stile I came, (These April days are fleet) I murmured: "Here a kiss she gave, And how that kiss was sweet!" . . . But when the third stile stayed my foot, (Look where the shadows fall) I bent my head, with misted eyes, And spoke no word at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY THE DESERTED LOVER CONSOLETH HIMSELF ... by THOMAS WYATT THE DEAD ASTRONOMER by CHARLES W. E. CHAPIN JR. BUSSY D'AMBOIS by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) AIDEEN'S GRAVE by SAMUEL FERGUSON |