She was whiter than the ermine That half shadowed neck and hand, And her tresses were more golden Than their golden band; Snowy ostrich plumes she wore Yet I almost loved her more In the simple time before. Then she plucked the stately lilies Knowing not she was more fair, And she listened to the skylark In the morning air. Then, a kerchief all her crown, She looked for the acorns brown, Bent their bough and shook them down. Then she thought of Christmas holly And of maybloom in sweet May; Then she loved to pick the cherries And to turn the hay. She was humble then and meek, And the blush upon her cheek Told of much she could not speak. Now she is a noble lady, With calm voice not overloud; Very courteous in her action, Yet you think her proud; Much too haughty to affect; Too indifferent to direct, Or be angry, or suspect; Doing all from self-respect. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I KNOW, I REMEMBER, BUT HOW CAN I HELP YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH FESTE'S SONG (2), FR. TWELFTH NIGHT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: MARCH by EDMUND SPENSER A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RENCONTRE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 62. FAREWELL TO JULIET (14) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |