Your pallor is no rose that blooms And no white bird with glassy plumes. More pale than pear trees blowing white Your body trembles on the night. The music of your motion is Least dubious of mysteries For so I sense you from afar. Like bird and bloom and song you are. These things I loved, but they are lost. The bird is broken on the gust. The bloom is given to the dust. A song is never always new And is forgot. And you, and you. . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHADOW-CASTING by JAMES GALVIN INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 26 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN NOCTURNE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RAILWAY DREAMINGS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM by BERNARD BARTON THE FOUR ZOAS: NIGHTS THE SEVENTH AND EIGHTH by WILLIAM BLAKE |