Slow, rigid, is this masquerade That passes as through a difficult air: Heavily -- heavily passes. What has she fed on? Who her table laid Through the three seasons? What forbidden fare Ruined her as a mortal lass is? I played with her two years ago, Who might be now her own sister in stone; So altered from her May mien, When round the pink a necklace of warm snow Laughed to her throat where my mouth's touch had gone. How is this, ruined Queen? Who lured her vivid beauty so To be that strained chill thing that moves So ghastly midst her young brood Of pregnant shoots that she for men did grow? Where are the strong men who made these their loves? Spring! God pity your mood! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BURY ME IN A FREE LAND by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: BRIDAL SONG AND DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE UNKNOWN WOMAN by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK THE DEBT UNPAYABLE by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON |