The light flower leaves its little core Begun upon the ready bough. Again she bears what she once bore, And what she knew, she must know now. The cracked glass fuses at a touch, The wound mends over, and is set In the whole flesh and is not much To quite remember or forget. Rocket and tree, and dome and bubble Again behind her freshened eyes Are treacherous. She need not trouble, Her lids will know them when she dies. And while she lives, the unwise, heady Dream, ever denied and driven Will one day find her bosom ready, That never thought to be forgiven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE PEACOCK OF FRANCE by MARIANNE MOORE SANDHILL PEOPLE by CARL SANDBURG THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1885 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD POSTHUMOUS by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 6 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |