MY sweetheart lays her hand in mine, When she would have me glad, She sings and sings, she never knows What music makes me sad. My sweetheart holds my heart to hers, When she would have me rest, She never hears the heavy sigh That breaks within my breast. Her sweet lips press my tired lids, When she would have me sleep; Alas, they have no power to stay The burning tears I weep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MISGIVINGS (1860) by HERMAN MELVILLE CHRIST IN FLANDERS by LUCY WHITMELL SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 7. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) RUSTIC CHILDHOOD by WILLIAM BARNES FROM A DUSTY SHELF by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT |