THOSE envied places which do know her well, And are so scornful of this lonely place, Even now for once are emptied of her grace: Nowhere but here she is: and while Love's spell From his predominant presence doth compel All alien hours, an outworn populace, The hours of Love fill full the echoing space With sweet confederate music favourable. Now many memories make solicitous The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit With quivering fire, the words take wing from it; As here between our kisses we sit thus Speaking of things remembered, and so sit Speechless while things forgotten call to us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK by ROBERT HERRICK THE CALL OF THE WILD by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE AT THE FUNERAL OF A MINOR POET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DIRGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON A LADY'S WRITING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |