EVEN if I died no sound should tell it her. Death babbles, but the calm of her dear eyes In vain would ask, no tell-tale breath should stir The lips still treasuring a thought unwise. How vain my life has been in its disguise, Left unregarded, her least pensioner, Yielding to all, unasking even with sighs The dole of hope not Heaven could quite confer. —To-day behold me on this page her name Over my own inscribing, with no prayer, Nor daring even to kneel in my distress. What I have written in this candle's flame Shrinks ere 'tis finished, and the incensed air Bears but betrays it not. She shall not guess. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUINED MAID by THOMAS HARDY THE SPIRIT OF POETRY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW WORDLY WISE (10) by MOTHER GOOSE THE NUANCES OF MENDACITY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A MOTHER'S ANSWER (2) by LILLIE E. BARR NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 8 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |