My heart that dreads what time may bring, Lies in thy hands a bird-like thing That flutters wild with fear of thee. So shy is he, so loth to lie, Let thy words too be low and shy, If thou wilt hold him trustfully. A single word will make him grieve, A look alone will make him heave With bitter anguish of despair. For at the words thy sweet mouth saith He feels the flight of thy soft breath And trembles like a plume in air. He follows, hovering near alway, Thee wheresoever thou dost stray With soft smooth throat and trailing gown, So furtive in his flight and swift, So fickle are the wings that lift, Thou touchest him and he is flown. And when this nearness thou shalt flout Until he bleed and life ebb out, Thou shalt know nothing of his pain; So slight the touch, thou shalt not heed How on a night his heart did bleed And on thy soft glove left a stain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE COMING OF SNOW by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST IT JUST SO HAPPENS by JAMES GALVIN MOTHER NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER |