THIS is the wood my holy angel-child Made joyous with her song, that day in Spring; These are the flowers her touch was gladdening While here she dreamed apart, and dreaming smiled; This is the little woodland meadow wild Whose green young life seemed neath her feet to spring As step by step she wandered, pillaging Flowers sweet as she was, fresh and undefiled. This is the spot where first I saw her smile With eyes that rapt my soul away the while; Here I have seen her weep, there heard her sing, 'Twas here I saw her dance, there sit aloof. . . . Of such vague thoughts, with shuttle wandering, Love weaves my web of life, both warp and woof. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SLEEPLESS NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE ECHOES: 35. MARGARITAE SORORI by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY TRAVELLING GIPSIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE DULL DEVOTION by JOSEPH BEAUMONT LIFE'S PATTERN by VERDA BORISFIELD ARMISTICE DAY by ZELMA DUNNING BOWEN SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 3 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |