WHAT thought is folded in thy leaves! What tender thought, what speechless pain! I hold thy faded lips to mine, Thou darling of the April rain! I hold thy faded lips to mine, Though scent and azure tint are fled -- O dry, mute lips! ye are the type Of something in me cold and dead: Of something wilted like thy leaves; Of fragrance flown, of beauty dim; Yet, for the love of those white hands That found thee by a river's brim -- That found thee when thy dewy mouth Was purpled as with stains of wine -- For love of her who love forgot, I hold thy faded lips to mine. That thou shouldst live when I am dead, When hate is dead, for me, and wrong, For this, I use my subtlest art, For this, I fold thee in my song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE ROAD TO AVIGNON by AMY LOWELL WHEN I WAS A BIRD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MARION REEDY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |