DOWN the long hall she glistens like a star, The foam-born mother of Love, transfixed to stone, Yet none the less immortal, breathing on. Time's brutal hand hath maimed but could not mar. When first the enthralled enchantress from afar Dazzled mine eyes, I saw not her alone, Serenely poised on her world-worshipped throne, As when she guided once her dove-drawn car, -- But at her feet a pale, death-stricken Jew, Her life adorer, sobbed farewell to love. Here Heine wept! Here still he weeps anew, Nor ever shall his shadow lift or move, While mourns one ardent heart, one poet-brain, For vanished Hellas and Hebraic pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS COLORADO MORTON'S RIDE by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) SONG TO THE MEN OF ENGLAND by THOMAS CAMPBELL KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE LAST MAN; A LAKE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |