THINK not, because I wonder where you fled, That I would lift a pin to see you there; You may, for me, be prowling anywhere, So long as you show not your little head: No dark and evil story of the dead Would leave you less pernicious or less fair-- Not even Lilith, with her famous hair; And Lilith was the devil, I have read. I cannot hate you, for I loved you then. The woods were golden then. There was a road Through beeches; and I said their smooth feet showed Like yours. Truth must have heard me from afar, For I shall never have to learn again That yours are cloven as no beech's are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARJORIE'S WOOING by EMMA LAZARUS WITH BEST WISHES by DOROTHY PARKER ADELAIDE CRAPSEY by CARL SANDBURG THE GREAT HUNT by CARL SANDBURG VILLAGE IN LATE SUMMER by CARL SANDBURG LINES ON LEAVING THE BEDFORD STR. SCHOOL HOUSE by GEORGE SANTAYANA |