The way seemed full of her, but these came nigh, Fluting like birds, and calicoed bright and clean, And beautiful their bosoms poutering by! "But ye are a cloud," I said, "too much between." Beauties have called to me from the woody grot, The quick brown fox, and the red-tail tanager, And the balsam tree; and how ye prospered not! Ye were but scene, but frame, for circling her. Up once I rose, in a fury of heard-of things, To travel the splendid sphere and see its fame; But the wars and ships and towns and the roaring kings But flashed with the image of her! and back I came. Since when I stay; I let the wide world spin; She brings me all the other wonders in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOROTHY DANCES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER COWLEY: THE GARDEN by ALEXANDER POPE THE LETTER; EDWARD ROWLAND SILL, DIED FEBRUARY 27, 1887 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A CHRISTMAS HYMN by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER AN EPITAPH ON A DUTCH CAPTAIN by PHILIP AYRES TO THE LADY PENELOPE RITCH by RICHARD BARNFIELD |