Morns like these - we parted Noons like these - she rose! Fluttering first - then firmer To her fair repose - Never did she lisp it And 'twas not for me - She was mute for transport I, for agony! Till the evening nearing One the shutters drew - Quick! a sharper rustling! And this linnet flew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY ONE'S-SELF I SING by WALT WHITMAN TO A SHADE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS HITOPADESA: DEDICATION by EDWIN ARNOLD SPRING IS NOT THE ASH by MARVIN BARRETT REQUIESCIT by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: AN EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |