EACH morning, as the day begins, Her hair is sunlight to my eyes, Each morning, as a new day wins The changeful skies. In silken mist the tresses wind And float about her, while my hands With loving care each day unbind The yellow strands. And then a dancing cloud of gold Plays all around my darling's face, Each morning while the days still hold My hour of grace. And lightly, from my finger-tips, The sadness I no more can stay, Into the golden glory slips, And dies away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE by JOHN MILTON GOBLIN MARKET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR COME HOME by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. ON THE GRASSHOPPER by ANACREON |