AS sun is to a mist-filled valley, rain To the dead earth, wind to the swallow's flight, Shadows to weary eyes, music without pain, And after noise, the dim, peace-breathing night: All these I thought my love to you could be, To ease some measure of the silent grief That, yearning in your brave eyes ceaselessly, In neither speech nor tears can find relief. But what are all my prayers and vain endeavor? Your sorrow stretches like an aching sea, Into which love of mine could pour forever And change it not until eternity. So, helpless, dumb with helplessness, I stand Close by you, and can only touch your hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON HIS LEAVING HIS MISTRESS by JOHN WILMOT YELLOW WARBLERS by KATHARINE LEE BATES PHILEMON by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS A SKETCH by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO T.H., A LADY RESEMBLING MY MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW ECLOGUE THE THIRD; A MAN, A WOMAN, SIR ROGER by THOMAS CHATTERTON |