MOST curious that she should weep Who had no tears to waste On any matter, light or deep, That was not to her taste. Her lips were always turned with scorn, Her eyes persistently Lifted above the crowd. Forlorn— That she would never be. Yet something touched her in the end; The barriers are riven, And all the tears she would not spend Impetuously given. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN THE CAMELOPARD by HILAIRE BELLOC JOURNEY TO A KNOWN PLACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOTHER (MARGERY CARRUTH, 1896-1981) by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY THE STARLING; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |