Upon those lips, those placid lips, I look Nor grieve that they are still and mute as death; I gaze -- I read as in an Angel's Book, And ask not speech from them, but long for breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 8 by EZRA POUND MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 13. ENVOI, 1919 by EZRA POUND SOUTHERN PACIFIC by CARL SANDBURG PROUD MAISIE, FR. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN by WALTER SCOTT AMY WENTWORTH; FOR WILLIAM BRADFORD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |