TWINE then the rays Round her soft Theban tissues! All will be as She says, When that dead past reissues. Matters not what nor where, Hark, to the moon's dim cluster! How was her heavy hair Lithe as a feather duster! Matters not when nor whence; Flittertigibbet! Sound makes the song, no sense, Thus I inhibit! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VOYAGE A L'INFINI by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG FOUND WANTING by EMILY DICKINSON MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN NOT DEAD by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES FIREFLY; A SONG by ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS IT IS FINISHED' by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |