WHEN Phoebe form'd a wanton smile, My soul! it reach'd not here! Strange, that thy peace, thou trembler, flies Before a rising tear! From midst the drops, my love is born, That o'er those eyelids rove: Thus issued from a teeming wave The fabled queen of love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 2 by CONRAD AIKEN I KNOW, I REMEMBER, BUT HOW CAN I HELP YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH WHAT THING A BIRD WOULD LOVE by ROBERT FROST DOMESDAY BOOK: GOTTLIEB GERALD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |