'O thy flamed cheek, Those locks with weeping wet, Eyes that, forlorn and meek, On mine are set. 'Poor hands, poor feeble wings, Folded, a-droop, O sad! See, 'tis my heart that sings To make thee glad. 'My mouth breathes love, thou dear. All that I am and know Is thine. My breast -- draw near: Be grieved not so!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A BREATH; TO THE WILLIAMSON BROTHERS by CARL SANDBURG THE QUAKER WIDOW by BAYARD TAYLOR IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 124 by ALFRED TENNYSON VERSES FOR A NOBLE EARL'S PICTURE by ROBERT BURNS CHARADES: 4 by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY A WOMAN AT HER HUSBAND'S GRAVE by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. |