THIS love is crueller than the other love: We had the Dreams for Tryst, we other pair; But here there is no @3we;@1 -- not anywhere Returning breaths of sighs about me move. No wings, even of the stuff which fancy wove, Perturb Sleep's air with a responsive flight When mine sweep into dreams. My soul in fright Circles as round its widowed nest a dove. One shadow but usurps another's place: And, though this shadow more enthralling is, Alas, it hath no lips at all to miss! I have not even that former poignant bliss, That haunting sweetness, that forlorn sad trace, The phantom memory of a vanished kiss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IDEA: TO THE READER OF THESE SONNETS, INTRODUCTION by MICHAEL DRAYTON ODE ON INDOLENCE by JOHN KEATS JUDGE NOT by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER MONOTONOUS VARIETY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SHELLEY AND TRELAWNEY by JULIA COOLEY ALTROCCHI |