LOOK, how he shakes for cold! How pale his lips are grown! Wherein his limbs to fold Yet mantle has he none. His pretty feet and hands (Of late more pure and white Than is the snow That pains them so) Have lost their candour quite. His lips are blue (Where roses grew), He's frozen ev'rywhere: All th' heat he has Joseph, alas! Gives in a groan; or Mary in a tear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER THE WATERFALL by THOMAS HARDY FORMERLY A SLAVE' (AN IDEALIZED PORTRAIT, BY E. VEDDER) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE WANDERING JEW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A JAPANESE DWARF TREE by ISABEL ANDERSON THE DREAM GIRL by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE ANSWER by IRMA LITTELL BOICE A MORNING WALK by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN A LETTER, ON HIS DEPARTURE FORM LONDON; TO R.L., ESQ. by JOHN BYROM |