Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HER PITY, by PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON



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HER PITY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: This is the room to which she came that
Last Line: Once leap'd my heart, then, dumb, stood still again.
Subject(s): Pity


THIS is the room to which she came that day, --
Came when the dusk was falling cold and gray, --
Came with soft step, in delicate array,

And sat beside me in the firelight there;
And, like a rose of perfume rich and rare,
Thrill'd with her sweetness the environing air.

We heard the grind of traffic in the street,
The clamorous calls, the beat of passing feet,
The wail of bells that in the twilight meet.

Then I knelt down, and dar'd to touch her hand, --
Those slender fingers, and the shining band
Of happy gold wherewith her wrist was spann'd.

Her radiant beauty made my heart rejoice;
And then she spoke, and her low, pitying voice
Was like the soft, pathetic, tender noise

Of winds that come before a summer rain:
Once leap'd the blood in every clamorous vein;
Once leap'd my heart, then, dumb, stood still again.





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