SWEET mother, let the weaving be, My hand is faint to move. Frail Aphrodite masters me; I long for my young love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREENNESS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE TO R. B. by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 4 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 21. YAKBUZU WA YABSUTU by EDWIN ARNOLD LINES WRITTEN BY A DEATH-BED by MATTHEW ARNOLD |