Your pale Egyptian eyelids used to stir Faintly with laughter when I brought a jest. You were mysterious as a sepulchre To my young eyes; and that perhaps was best: For a dim secret, none too good to know, Must even then have had its dwelling-place In your still bosom. I could come and go Yet never read the silence of your face. Then on a day the spirit in that tomb Grew faint, and madness curtained up your eyes With film on film of desolated gloom Through which the soul I knew gave no replies -- Until that dawn of strange November rain When you lay dead, and were yourself again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JEALOUSY by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE MOUSE'S LULLABY by PALMER COX EARLY MORN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A HYMN; AFTER READING 'LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT' by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 62 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN CASEY AT THE BAT (1) by ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER THE IMAGE OF GOD by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA |