Lady, forsake the torrid coastal marshes, The festering faces and the stagnant talk, For there are venomous serpents in the rushes With beady eyes that eye you where you walk; And I will show you trees at moon-set striking The attitudes my grim despair distils, And I will serve you coffee to your liking When morning breaks with singing in the hills. I have not felt the wind of beauty blowing Sweet from your hands upon me in this place; I do not even know your brightest going Through alien streets enamoured of your grace. I only know that peace beyond my knowing Slipped from my side and turned away her face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOOL'S PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL THE PRETTY REDHEAD by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE SONNET TO THE DEBEN by BERNARD BARTON BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FIFTH SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN BY LORD KNOWLES: SONG OF THREE VOICES by THOMAS CAMPION |