THE maid I love ne'er thought of me Amid the scenes of gaiety; But when her heart or mine sank low, Ah, then it was no longer so. From the slant palm she raised her head, And kissed the cheek whence youth had fled. Angels! some future day for this, Give her as sweet and pure a kiss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FRAILTY AND HURTFULNESS OF BEAUTY by HENRY HOWARD BEAVER BROOK by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE ORCHARD PIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET: 116 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE FRANCE; THE 18TH YEAR OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN LONDON, 1802 (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |