MY HEAD is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love's; They brush my dreaming brows With silver fluttering beat, Here in your golden house, Beneath your feet. No man that draweth breath Is in such happy case: My heart to itself saith -- Though kings gaze on her face, I would not change my place; To lie here is more sweet, Here at her feet. As one in a green land Beneath a rose-bush lies, Two petals in his hand, With shut and dreaming eyes, And hears the rustling stir, As the young morning goes, Shaking abroad the myrrh Of each awakened rose; So to me lying there Comes the soft breath of her, -- O cruel sweet! -- There at her feet. O little careless feet That scornful tread Upon my dreaming head, As little as the rose Of him who lies there knows Nor of what dreams may be Beneath your feet: Know you of me, Ah! dreams of your fair head, Its golden treasure spread, And all your moonlit snows, Yea! all your beauty's rose That blooms to-day so fair And smells so sweet -- Shoulders of ivory, And breasts of myrrh -- Under @3my@1 feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KEENAN'S CHARGE by GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP ARNOLD [VON] WINKELRIED by JAMES MONTGOMERY AN EPIGRAM ON SCOLDING by JONATHAN SWIFT THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY SONNET ON CATHERINE WORDSWORTH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LILIES: 30. THE WHOLE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) LOVE POSTPONED by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT STANZAS, OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF A RELATIVE ABROAD by BERNARD BARTON |