The steeple scatters its doves Like an overblown rosetree When the chime moves. She must bear music alone, Shutting her chamber windows Now you are gone? Gone -- but your memory sings, Overtones, life of her living, A belfry of wings. Ghosts should be seemly, still, But wild in her heart you are waking At the chime's will. And rapt as a pair Of doves with the carillon pealing Your wings ride the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES II, 14 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE OF MAIDENS' PRAISE: AN INVOCATION by SAINT ALDHELM THE TOUCH STONE by SAMUEL BISHOP NO CONTINUING CITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A CITY GARDEN by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE ON HIS ENGAGEMENT TO BE MARRIED by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: NEWS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TO A CERTAIN VERY UGLY BUILDING: THE ARMORY by VINCENT GODFREY BURNS |