And, feeling round him, lo, upon the mould A pick and spade cast down by accident. And Adrian laughed when in those engines cold He guessed the furtherers of his heart's intent. And all night through he wrought with them in rage, As miners do who know the prize at hand. Blest Adrian! Now thy lips thou shalt engage In the full solace thy long love has planned. Her face is near thee. Speed thee on thy task. Her breast's fair purity is thine to kiss. She shall not now deny though thou shouldst ask Her whole soul's prize in ransom of thy bliss. Thrice happy Adrian! See, thy hands have slid Trembling on thy Natalia's coffin lid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (1) by THOMAS CAREW GULF-WEED by CORNELIUS GEORGE FENNER THE AKOND [OR, AKHOND] OF SWAT by EDWARD LEAR BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE [DECEMBER 2, 1859] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FOR A CHILD: 1. WALKING SONG by CHARLES WILLIAMS THE WEAVER'S APPRENTICE by AL-RUSAFI |