HER hair is winged with summer nights, Her brow is like the dawn, Her voice is like an olden song That memory lingers on, And all her movements are as soft And gentle as a fawn. A lovely mild, and winsome girl Of strange and Eastern grace— I thought, "How happy art thou, child In whom all gifts find place," Till deep within her eyes I saw The story of her race. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MAN'S REQUIREMENTS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO MARY UNWIN by WILLIAM COWPER FATHER LAND AND MOTHER TONGUE by SAMUEL LOVER TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE TO THE QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON |