Her end is yonder, certain as the night Above a staved ship with mortal list; But do you mark, O wise psychologist, Each cunning means? Each subtle pang and blight? -- Whereof but one had been enough to smite The brain of woman in her bridal song, Had it been bound with bands tenfold more strong Than the doomed lady's in the House of White; And yonder my collapse, sure as the abyss Beneath the broken thigh, the bleeding nail Of clinging mountaineer; but do you trace Each ineluctable Antithesis? -- Whereof but one had hurled from off the trail A manhood tenfold mine in pride of place? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 1. EMBARKATION by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER TO MY FATHER by WILLIAM SYDNEY GRAHAM INTROSPECTIVE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY LINES FOR THE HOUR by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG THE AVENUE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: A LETTER TO CORDELIA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |