A fair girl tripping out to meet her love, Trimmed in her best, fresh as a clover bud. An old crone leaning at an ember'd fire, Short-breath'd in sighs and moaning to herself -- And all the interval of stealing years To make that this, and one by one detach Some excellent condition; till Despair Faint at the vision, sadly, fiercely blinds Her burning eyes on her forgetful hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS UPON THE DEATH OF THE LORD HASTINGS by JOHN DRYDEN AT MIDSUMMER by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON SONG, FR. THE TWO GENTELEM OF VERONA by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AN EVOCATION by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE QUEEN IN FRANCE; AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLAD by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |