WONDERING maiden, so puzzled and fair, Why dost thou murmur and ponder and stare? "Why are my eyelids so open and wild?" -- Only the better to see with, my child! Only the better and clearer to view Cheeks that are rosy, and eyes that are blue. Dost thou still wonder, and ask why these arms Fill thy soft bosom with tender alarms, Swaying so wickedly? -- are they misplaced, Clasping or shielding some delicate waist: Hands whose coarse sinews may fill you with fear Only the better protect you, my dear! Little Red Riding-Hood, when in the street, Why do I press your small hand when we meet? Why, when you timidly offered your cheek, Why did I sigh, and why did n't I speak? Why, well: you see -- if the truth must appear -- I'm not your grandmother, Riding-Hood, dear! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CENTRAL PARK AT DUSK by SARA TEASDALE ON MY THIRTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BOUND NO'TH BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON ANOTHER SPRING by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 1. LORD CRASHTON by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM PSALM 1. BEATUS VIR, QUI NON by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |