MY love looks like a girl to-night, But she is old. The plaits that lie along her pillow Are not gold, But threaded with filigree, And uncanny cold. She looks like a young maiden, since her brow Is smooth and fair, Her cheeks are very smooth, her eyes are closed, She sleeps a rare Still winsome sleep, so still, and so composed. Nay, but she sleeps like a bride, and dreams her dreams Of perfect things. She lies at last, the darling, in the shape of her dream, And her dead mouth sings By its shape, like the thrushes in clear evenings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUT NOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE BEAR by EDITH SITWELL THE COAT OF FIRE by EDITH SITWELL A,B,C by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY TWO SONGS: 2 by CECIL DAY LEWIS SONG OF A SECOND APRIL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFELLOWS; FLOREAT ETONA by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED |