(Song) I THE curtains now are drawn, And the spindrift strikes the glass, Blown up the jagged pass By the surly salt sou'-west, And the sneering glare is gone Behind the yonder crest, While she sings to me: 'O the dream that thou art my Love, be it thine, And the dream that I am thy Love, be it mine, And death may come, but loving is divine.' II I stand here in the rain, With its smite upon her stone, And the grasses that have grown Over women, children, men, And their texts that 'Life is vain;' But I hear the notes as when Once she sang to me: 'O the dream that thou art my Love, be it thine, And the dream that I am thy Love, be it mine, And death may come, but loving is divine.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE THE RUSSIAN ARMY GOES INTO BAKU by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER COMMEMORATION ODE READ AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL BALLAD OF HECTOR IN HADES by EDWIN MUIR SAPPHO AND PHAON: 2. THE TEMPLE OF CHASTITY by MARY DARBY ROBINSON VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1880 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT by ALFRED TENNYSON |