Do not sneer, stranger, if one by one, The crowd who followed her are gone To strangle their own shadows, or lie Bitterly with a harlot. I Have heard in a Bach fugue some phrase, Perplexed with flowers and sunlight, wake The green-leaved morning to her praise; More generous, pitiful than we However casual may be The comment that her shoulders make. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOON ON FORRESTER'S POND by HAYDEN CARRUTH WINTER RAIN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP SIDNEY ACROSS THE STREET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SHADOWS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. |