ON the Faubourg Saint Marceau Lay the mist this very morning, Mist of autumn, heavy, thick, And a white-hued night resembling. Wandering through this white-hued night, I beheld before me gliding An enchanting female form Which the moon's sweet light resembled. Yes, she was, like moonlight sweet, Lightly floating, tender, graceful; Such a slender shape of limbs I had here in France ne'er witness'd. Was it Luna's self perchance, Who with some young dear and handsome Fond Endymion had to-day In th' Quartier Latin been ling'ring? On my way home thus I thought: Wherefore fled she when she saw me? Did the Goddess think that I Was perchance the Sun-God Phoebus? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HATCHING; FOR DAW AUNG SAN SUU KYI by KAREN SWENSON THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN AT BETHLEHEM: 1. THE CHILD by JOHN BANISTER TABB FIRST OF MAY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONAUTICA): THE SAILING OF THE ARGO by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS A PEASANT WOMAN'S SONG by DION BOUCICAULT |