THE Angels alone might tell you The Land whence my Lady came, Of the days she took to travel Over a sea aflame. She came with the early Dawn Before the stars were set, The palest of roseate streamers Aglow on her coverlet. But how shall I tell of the wonder, The joy that has come to me, In the light of the bluest of eyes That ever smiled out of the sea? Such treasure of golden floss, In strands of drifting ore! 'Twas spun by a faery hand By the light of faery lore. Her smile is a flash of the dawn Before the morning breaks: 'Twould scatter the dullest clouds That ever the East awakes! Such tiny hands and feet! Such mimicking words and ways! And—oh, for that childish prattle, When the heart, itself, betrays! For to thee, thou little Innocent! The world cannot help but be kind. But the larger the heart, the greater The sorrow it needs must find! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH WINTER SONG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SIGNATURE OF LOVE by KAREN SWENSON |