Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO HER WHO PASSES, by MAURICE BROWNE



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TO HER WHO PASSES, by            
First Line: Her footsteps fall in silent sands
Last Line: Upon the quiet of this place.


Her footsteps fall in silent sands;
Her hands are cool like growing leaves;
The fingers of her hovering hands
Touch lightly, pass; and time bereaves
The benison of her caress
Of peace, or pain, or bitterness.

The kisses of her mouth like dew
Rain gently down; if she has sinned,
That she had sinned she never knew;
Lightly she walks upon the wind,
And like the wind she leaves no trace
Upon the quiet of this place.






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