THIS is the pathway where she walked, The tender grass pressed by her feet. The laurel boughs laced overhead, Shut out the noonday heat. The sunshine gladly stole between The softly undulating limbs. From every blade and leaf arose The myriad insect hymns. A brook ran murmuring beneath The grateful twilight of the trees, Where from the dripping pebbles swelled A beech's mossy knees. And there her robe of spotless white, (Pure white such purity beseemed!) Her angel face, and tresses bright Within the basin gleamed. The coy sweetbriers half detained Her light hem as we moved along! To hear the music of her voice The mockbird hushed his song. But now her little feet are still, Her lips the Everlasting seal; The hideous secrets of the grave The weeping eyes reveal. The path still winds, the brook descends, The skies are bright as then they were. My Amy is the only leaf In all that forest sear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: BEFORE AN EXAMINATION by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH DRIVING INTO LARAMIE by JAMES GALVIN THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR VASHTI by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE |