KISSING her hair, I sat against her feet: Wove and unwove it, -- wound, and found it sweet: Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers, and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound, and found her fair, -- Kissing her hair. Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me, -- Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea: What pain could get between my face and hers? What new sweet thing would Love not relish worse? Unless, perhaps, white Death had kissed me there, -- Kissing her hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.P.: 4 by GEORGE SANTAYANA NURSING HOME: THE DOLL by KAREN SWENSON THE ITINERANT POET'S ROAD SONG by KAREN SWENSON SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 43 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC by BEN JONSON THE AEOLIAN HARP; AT THE SURF INN by HERMAN MELVILLE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 90 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE QUAKER POET; VERSES ON SEEING MYSELF SO DESIGNATED by BERNARD BARTON |