WITH her face between his hands! Was it any wonder she Stood atiptoe tremblingly? As his lips along the strands Of her hair went lavishing Tides of kisses, such as swing Love's arms to like iron bands. -- With her face between his hands! And the hands -- the hands that pressed The glad face -- Ah! where are they? Folded limp, and laid away Idly over idle breast? He whose kisses drenched her hair, As he caught and held her there, In Love's alien, lost lands, With her face between his hands? Was it long and long ago, When her face was not as now, Dim with tears? nor wan her brow As a winter-night of snow? Nay, anointing still the strands Of her hair, his kisses flow Flood-wise, as she dreaming stands, With her face between his hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN SONNET: TO FANNY by JOHN KEATS THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER IN A GARRET by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN AT ELLIS ISLAND by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS |