Stretch'd on a mouldered Abbey's broadest wall, Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep -- Her folded arms wrapping her tattered pall, Had melancholy mus'd herself to sleep. The fern was press'd beneath her hair, The dark green adder's tongue was there; And still as passed the flagging sea-gale weak, The long lank leaf bowed fluttering o'er her cheek. That pallid cheek was flushed: her eager look Beamed eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought, Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, And her bent forehead worked with troubled thought. Strange was the dream -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRECIOUS WORDS by EMILY DICKINSON UPON THE SAYING THAT MY VERSES WERE MADE BY ANOTHER by ANNE KILLIGREW THE FACTORY; 'TIS AN ACCURSED THING! by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON CARILLON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW OVER THE RIVER by NANCY WOODBURY PRIEST FIELD AMBULANCE IN RETREAT; VIA DOLOROSA, VIA SACRA by MAY SINCLAIR |