It is not for her even brow And shining yellow hair, But it is for her tender eyes I think my love so fair; Her telltale eyes that smile and weep As frankly as they wake and sleep. It is not for her rounded cheek I love and fain would win, But it is for the blush that comes Straight from the heart within; The honest blush of maiden shame That blushes without thought of blame. So in my dreams I never hear Her song, although she sings As if a choir of spirits swept From earth with throbbing wings; I only hear the simple voice Whose love makes many hearts rejoice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE SONNET: 48 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE STORY OF URIAH by RUDYARD KIPLING MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 49. AL-MAJID by EDWIN ARNOLD |