Annunciata stands On the flat lands Under the pear-tree (Jangling sweetly). See, The cure-black leaves Are cawing like a rook . . . Annunciata grieves, "No young man will look At me with my harsh jangling hair Pink as the one pear (A flapping crude fish tinsel-pink Flapping across the consciousness Like laughter) and my tattered dress." Then from the brink Of the deep well, Sounding like a bell, From the castles under water The old men seek the beggar's daughter . . . Some were wrinkled grey From suicide grown gay And smiling, some were seen With ivy limbs green And gnarled with the water . . . "Dance a pavane, beggar's daughter" . . . They wooed her with book And the water's tuneless bell Wooed her as well -- A water-hidden sound achieves; And cawing like a rook Were the cure-black leaves . . . One feather-breast of dew was grey Upon round leaves -- they fled away. Only a moaning sound From the castles that lie drowned Beneath the fruit-boughs of the water Reached the beggar's daughter. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN-HILL ON A BICYCLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER MIDNIGHT-BY THE OPEN WINDOW by LOUIS UNTERMEYER HERITAGE by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT DAYS TOO SHORT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN |