OH, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep, -- A tender infant with its curtained eye, Breathing as it would neither live nor die With that unchanging countenance of sleep! As if its silent dream, serene and deep, Had lined its slumber with a still blue sky So that the passive cheeks unconscious lie With no more life than roses -- just to keep The blushes warm, and the mild, odorous breath. O blossom boy! so calm is thy repose, So sweet a compromise of life and death, 'Tis pity those fair buds should e'er unclose For memory to stain their inward leaf, Tinging thy dreams with unacquainted grief. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REGARDING CHAINSAWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONG: SO OFTEN, SO LONG I HAVE THOUGHT by HAYDEN CARRUTH CLEAR AND COLDER; BOSTON COMMON by ROBERT FROST IN LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HERO-WORSHIP; SONNET by AMY LOWELL HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL THE HEART'S RETURN by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |