WAS it a mere caprice of mateless passion? So kind a memory that could never claim; Our little love, in quaintly childish fashion, Was not unworthy of the nobler name. Not the high god who touches the hereafter, Bearing within his bosom life and death, But a slim stripling Eros, winged with laughter, Globing bright bubble-moments with warm breath. BEFORE the august gaze of mighty blisses That since have stooped to glorify our clay, All unabashed, he juggles our past kisses, And with a smile we watch him at his play. He never masked in majesty forbidden, Nor filched the due of greater gods than he; Wherefore he keeps, in gentle mirth unchidden, His little share of immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MENAGERIE by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY ROBINSON CRUSOE by MOTHER GOOSE FESTE'S SONG (1), FR. TWELFTH NIGHT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IMPROMPTU ON CHARLES II (2) by JOHN WILMOT THE SAD SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DAY AND NIGHT SONGS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE SMUGGLER'S LEAP; A LEGEND OF THANET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |