Ah, he was white and slender And the lamplight turned him gold And his groping hands were tender And his kisses never bold. How shall I sleep through the long, long nights In my wide cold-sheeted bed, Hearing the wild geese crying in their flights, And me afraid, And him not by to turn and hold me to his heart In the way he knew, And me no longer folded to his heart Thinking him true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER PARTING by SARA TEASDALE A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: SCANDERBERG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SIR GALAHAD by ALFRED TENNYSON BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY PHILIP, KING OF MACEDON by ALCAEUS OF MESSENE WHERE IS ARCADY? by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 42 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |