I'VE seen the delicate golden-haired child Unto a crazy old fool chains uniting; She gentle and soft as the spring breeze mild, And he a north wind, with his gray locks frighting. The good and virtuous wife have I seen, On bed of fair flowers her body finding; The blossoms o'er her dear form wove a screen, Which chains so young to ice and snow were binding. Her every feature spoke of secret woe, Yet on her brow was purity still dreaming; Thus frost doth often, e'en mid springtide glow, Kill in one night the rosebud brightest seeming. The tears sprung burning hot to all our eyes, But mine from her pale lips could not be riven; To me she seemed a lamb of sacrifice, Unto the yawning jaws of hell thus driven. The gray-haired dolt, 't is true, wailed and tears shed, The while, in secret, groups of young girls watching, Whence he, perchance ere three short months had sped, Might have the joy of one more sweet flow'r snatching. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCHOOL BOY, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE FROM THE ANTIQUE (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER by JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND THE WELCOME by FARID OD-DIN MOHAMMAD EBN EBRAHIM ATTAR ON A GIFT OF FLOWERS by GUILLAUME VICTOR EMILE AUGIER LISTENING by KATHARINE LEE BATES |