When morning shows her first faint flush, I think of the tender blush That crept so gently to your cheek When first my love I dared to speak; How, in your glance, a dawning ray Gave promise of love's perfect day. When, in the ardent breath of noon, The roses with passion swoon; There steals upon me from the air The scent that lurked within your hair; I touch your hand, I clasp your form — Again your lips are close and warm. When comes the night with beauteous skies, I think of your tear-dimmed eyes, Their mute entreaty that I stay, Although your lips sent me away; And then falls memory's bitter blight, And dark — so dark becomes the night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAUGHTERS OF JEPHTHA by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM COWPER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 43. ONE CHANCE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 6 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A POET ENLISTS by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. TO ONE WHO IS WHERE THE ETERNAL ARE by EDWARD CARPENTER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. IN THE DEEP CAVE OF THE HEART by EDWARD CARPENTER AN EPITAPH ON MY DEAR AUNT, MRS. ANN STANHOPE by CHARLES COTTON |