There, where the sun shines first Against our room, She trained the gold Azalea, whose perfume She, Spring-like, from her breathing grace dispersed. Last night the delicate crests of saffron bloom, For this their dainty likeness watched and nurst, Were just at point to burst. At dawn I dreamed, O God, that she was dead, And groaned aloud upon my wretched bed, And waked, ah, God, and did not waken her, But lay, with eyes still closed, Perfectly bless'd in the delicious sphere By which I knew so well that she was near, My heart to speechless thankfulness composed. Till 'gan to stir A dizzy somewhat in my troubled head -- It @3was@1 the azalea's breath, and she @3was@1 dead! The warm night had the lingering buds disclosed. And I had fallen asleep with to my breast A chance-found letter pressed In which she said, 'So, till to-morrow eve, my Own, adieu! Parting's well-paid with soon again to meet, Soon in your arms to feel so small and sweet, Sweet to myself that am so sweet to you!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SLEEP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BARNEY'S INVITATION by PHILIP FRENEAU JAZZONIA by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES TO MY FRIENDS, WHO RIDICULED A TENDER LEAVE-TAKING by MATTHEW ARNOLD TWELVE SONNETS: 2 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) VINCENT VAN GOGH by HARRIET R. BEAN |