SHOWING the whiteness of flesh faint and fair The hands, the sweet hands that have never spun, Reveal their jewelled beauty to the sun And fingers slim that braid the heavy hair. O hands, you gather beside the waters calm Great lilies of the river, trembling reed, And from the neighbouring mountain choose at need Peace of the olive, glory of the palm. O hands, on the steep river bank you draw To heal the brow by ancient sin dismayed, Holy baptismal waters that persuade Fair forms, new-garmented, to kneel in awe. O hands of fragrant flesh whose gesture slow Draws the warm blood to the faint finger-tips, The weary brows o'er which your beauty slips Feel heavenly freshness fall like healing snow. And poets in their red and scarlet girt, Singing the sorrow of their dream exiled, Kiss you, dear hands, for being undefiled By sordid toil, by barren tasks unhurt. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SITTING by CECIL DAY LEWIS A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER BROTHERHOOD (2) by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |