DEW on her robe and on her tangled hair; Twin dewdrops for her eyes; behold her pass, With dainty step brushing the young, green grass, The while she trills some high, fantastic air, Full of all feathered sweetness: she is fair, And all her flower-like beauty, as a glass, Mirrors out hope and love: and still, alas! Traces of tears her languid lashes wear. Say, doth she weep for very wantonness? Or is it that she dimly doth foresee Across her youth the joys grow less and less, The burden of the days that are to be: Autumn and withered leaves and vanity, And winter bringing end in barrenness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I'M KILLED by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES JAFFAR by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST by ANDREW MARVELL UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 16. THE DEAREST FRIENDS ARE THE AULDEST FRIENDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WHIM ALLEY by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. EYES AND LIPS by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER |