BY white wool houses thick with sleep, Wherein pig-snouted small winds creep, With our white muslin faces clean, We slip to see what can be seen. Those rustling corn-sheaves the gold stars Drop grain between the window-bars Among dark leaves, all velvety -- (So seem the shadows) and we see Crazed Martha tie up her brown hair With the moon's blue ribbons, stare At candles that are lit in vain -- They cannot penetrate her brain: Their tinsel jargon seems to be Incomprehensibility To Martha's mind, though every word Of her's they echo, like that bird Of brilliant plumage, whose words please The Indians by their bright-plumed seas. The Fair's tunes bloom like myosotis, Smooth-perfumed stephanotis; We children come with twisted curls Like golden corn-sheaves, or fat pearls, Like ondines in blue muslin dance Around her; never once a glance She gives us: "Can my love be true? He promised he would bring me blue Ribbons to tie up my brown hair. He promised me both smooth and fair That he would dive through brightest plumes Of Indian seas for pearls, where glooms The moon's blue ray; in her sleeping-chamber Find me Thetis' fan of amber." * * * * * The candles preen and sleek their feathers . . . "Pretty lady!" "Sweet June weathers." But silence now lies all around Poor Martha, since her love is drowned. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIXIE by DANIEL DECATUR EMMETT A WINTER WISH by ROBERT HINCKLEY MESSINGER DAUGHTERS OF WAR by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE CENTAURS by JAMES STEPHENS TO A SHADE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AGAMEMNON: THE PURPLE CARPER by AESCHYLUS INVOCATION TO SLEEP by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |