Curious you should not see my feet are weary -- Weary of the way you see so fair -- As wondering you look along each silver path with question Why I will not tread. Curious you should not see my eyes are weary, Weary of the sorrow and the passion they have seen; Asking now to close, the last kiss given, The last word said. Curious you should not see my hands are weary, Weary with their ceaseless fluttering round little things; Concerned no longer with caresses nor with loving, Still and uncomforted. Your young desire would take away my sorrow, Do you not see I have but ashes for you? I would not lay upon your eager breast My weary head. Your feet are hurrying, your soul is hungering -- You of the intent eyes, the questing will. Why do you ask my two tired, empty hands To give you bread? You will not see my very soul is weary -- I think it died long, long ago, or fled. Would you ask caresses from a shadow-woman -- Kisses from the dead? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG, FR. ERNEST MALTRAVERS by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON GERONTION by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE VANITY OF THE WORLD by FRANCIS QUARLES THE EBB AND FLOW by EDWARD TAYLOR EPITAPH ON A CHILD by JEAN ANTOINE DE BAIF CLASS POEM by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |