LAST night, while I was sitting by her side, And listening to her bodice' silken stir, And stroking her soft sleeves of yellow fur, I gave the sweet who is to be my bride A little silver vinaigrette, star-eyed, And chased with Cupids; and received from her The gold-embossed pomander-box of myrrh She pounced her white hands with at eventide. My sleep till dawn was all consumed with thirst, And passionate longing; then the great sun's light Burst through my flimsy dreams, and nothing tells Of all the joy that gladdened me last night, Except this little golden box that smells As her sweet hands did when I kissed them first. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING DAY: NIGHT AND SLEEP by AMY LOWELL THE NEGRO DANCERS by CLAUDE MCKAY ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE [OUT OF NORFOLK] by WILLIAM COWPER SONNET: 21. TO CYRIACK SKINNER by JOHN MILTON HOMESICKNESS by HENRY BELLAMANN CLARE'S GHOST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |