HER ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale leaves listlessly, Or the drifting foam of a restless sea When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze. Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun On the burnished disk of the marigold, Or the sun-flower turning to meet the sun When the gloom of the jealous night is done, And the spear of the lily is aureoled. And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire set In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL A NEW HYMN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE DAY AND THE WORK by EDWIN MARKHAM |