I SAW a weeping maiden A-searching in the morn For Love, who tells the rosebud Too little of the thorn: She sought him on the hill-top And o'er the dewy lea; But he was standing in the shade, Was waiting there with me. He sang not in the meadow, He piped not near the stream, Nor hid in ferny forest, This darling of her dream: He slept not in the poppies, He stooped not in the rye; But called to her from out my heart, And yet she passed him by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR LADY by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE WAYCONNELL TOWER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM A SONNET. ON CYNTHIA SICK by PHILIP AYRES LANDSCAPE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE QUATORZAINS: 8. TO SILENCE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |