MY little child, how can you stand And fondle me and show no fears, Nor cease your undertone of song? You do not guess a ghostly hand Was stretched across the gulf of years And held these fingers all night long. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT DEAD, BUT GONE BEFORE by ANTIPHANES ASHWEDNESDAY by JOSEPH BEAUMONT WHEN GOD WEARIED by WILLIAM ROSE BENET AMERICA A PROPHECY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE STEALING OF THE MARE; AN ARABIC EPIC OF THE TENTH CENTURY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 6 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 15. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE ELEVENTH EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |