HER hand a goblet bore for him— Her chin and mouth curved like its rim— So gentle yet so sure her tread, No drop was from the goblet shed. So gentle and so firm his hand: A tameless steed allured his daring And with a gesture swift, uncaring He forced its trembling form to stand. But when at last from her pale hand He was to take the cup of gold, Too heavy for them both it was: For they so trembled like the grass, That neither hand the other found And on the ground the dark wine rolled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE TRENCHES by RICHARD ALDINGTON ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST ITALIAN PICTURES: JULY IN VALLOMBROSA by MINA LOY LIVE AND HELP LIVE by EDWIN MARKHAM COUNSEIL TO A BACHELER by MARIANNE MOORE |