Roses are sweet to smell and see, And lilies on the stem; But rarer, stranger buds there be, And she was like to them. The little moon that April brings, More lovely shade than light, That, setting, silvers lonely hills Upon the verge of night -- Close to the world of my poor heart So stole she, still and clear; Now that she's gone, O dark, and dark, The solitude, the fear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION by WILLIAM BLAKE THE MARRIAGE VOW by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S WOOING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BENNINGTON by WILLIAM HENRY BABCOCK EARLY AND LATE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE ORDINATION by ROBERT BURNS A FRIENDLY EXPOSTULATION, CONCERNING THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND by JOHN BYROM |