WHILE on the cliff with calm delight she kneels, And the blue vales a thousand joys recall, See, to the last, last verge her infant steals! O, fly -- yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall. -- Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare, And the fond boy springs back to nestle there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 26 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY by ROBERT BURNS IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE COLLEGE COLONEL by HERMAN MELVILLE THE MEETING OF THE WATERS by THOMAS MOORE |