O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman's gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE by EUGENE FIELD SEADRIFT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO TWO BEREAVED by THOMAS ASHE THE LAY OF MR. COLT by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN TOWERING OVER THE WRECKS OF TIME by JOHN BOWRING THE PALACE OF OMARTES by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: THE LAST MESSAGE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |