Unflinching, cool, detached, of raiment proud, Wraith of some Persian prince long ages dead, Immaculate, -- the hue of moon-tipped cloud, You stand in state, a crescent on your head. What spring is there within my breast vibrates This reverence I feel beholding you? A feeling which all self-conceit berates, Compelling me to praise a cockatoo? If true, the body does reflect the soul, How nearer to perfection are you now Than I, drab blur -- you, polychrome control, So I before your royal head must bow! Oh, were my thoughts as spotless as your sheen, No man could ever mark me as unclean! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALONZO CHURCHILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A COURT LADY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE BRAVE OLD OAK by HENRY FOTHERGILL CHORLEY RETURN by KENNETH SLADE ALLING SUMMER APPROACHES by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD BARCAROLE: DE VIGNY by E. G. B. |