NEVER has she known The way a robin will skip and come, With an eye half bold, half timorsome, To the table's edge for a breakfast crumb: Nor has she seen A streak of roseate gently drawn Across the east, that means the dawn, When, up and out, she foots it on: Nor has she heard The rustle of the sparrow's tread To roost in roof-holes near her head When dusk bids her, too, seek her bed: Nor has she watched Amid a stormy eve's turmoil The pipkin slowly come to boil, In readiness for one at toil: Nor has she hearkened Through the long night-time, lone and numb, For sounds of sent-for help to come Ere the swift-sinking life succumb: Nor has she ever Held the loved-lost one on her arm, Attired with care his straightened form, As if he were alive and warm: Yea, never has she Known, seen, heard, felt, such things as these, Haps of so many in their degrees Throughout their count of calvaries! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXPANDED COMPOSITION by CLARENCE MAJOR A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE EAGLE AND THE MOLE by ELINOR WYLIE THE TOOTHPICK by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM THE SPOUSE TO THE BELOVED by WILLIAM BALDWIN HOLLY BERRY AND MISTLETOE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE PATH by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON WRITTEN IN VISTORS' BOOK AT THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS by GEORGE WASHINGTON CABLE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. O LOVE - TO WHOM THE POETS by EDWARD CARPENTER |