How like her! But 'tis she herself, Comes up the crowded street, How little did I think, the morn, My only love to meet! Who else that motion and that mien? Whose else that airy tread? For one strange moment I forgot My only love was dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPIRIT OF '76 by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LOST MISTRESS by ROBERT BROWNING HYMN TO ADVERSITY by THOMAS GRAY FAIRYLAND (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 1. MOONLIGHT NIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE AMORETTI: 64 by EDMUND SPENSER MANDRAKE'S SONG; FRAGMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ANOTHER JOURNEY FROM BETHUNE TO CUINCHY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |