THE voice of my true love is low And exquisitely kind, Warm as a flower, cold as snow— I think it is the Wind. My true love's face is white as mist That moons have lingered on, Yet rosy as a cloud, sun-kissed— I think it is the Dawn. The breath of my true love is sweet As gardens at day's close When dew and dark together meet— I think it is a Rose. My true love's heart is wild and shy And folded from my sight, A world, a star, a whispering sigh— I think it is the Night. My true love's name is lost to me, The prey of dusty years, But in the falling Rain I see And know her by her tears! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WORLD AS WILL AND REPRESENTATION' by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE FALL by HAYDEN CARRUTH ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST WHAT THING A BIRD WOULD LOVE by ROBERT FROST ISOLATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LAMP OF LIFE by AMY LOWELL |