HERE is my Cup; A crystal well, Where the wind's rough fluting dies To the thin-tuned sigh of a shell! The very breath Of melody, In sob and song She's singing me! Here is my Cup; A fairy soul, With the sun all gold on her curves, And the moon milk-white in her bowl! As twilight dark, Like dew a-shine, The goblet she Of ev'ry wine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIGHT THAT LIES by THOMAS MOORE AFTER MUSIC by JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS by ALFRED TENNYSON TO MRS. PRIESTLEY, WITH SOME DRAWINGS OF BIRDS AND INSECTS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE FAKENHAM GHOST by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 39. FAREWELL TO JULIET (1) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |