ONCE, long ago, a little one of mine Would take my hand and look into my face As if she magically might divine My tempted heart, my imminent disgrace; And by that handclasp and that wistful look Would turn me safely in the better way; Her faith so perfect that I could not brook The thought of aught to waken her dismay. That little one is vanished; o'er her head Blow summer blooms, and on her stone you read The simple story of the life she led, Joyance in semblance, pure in every deed. And even yet, across the dim of years, How many, comes in the old pleading guise, To keep me clean from all that soils and sears, The Christ-like candor of those early eyes! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LIVING, FROM LIFE IS A DREAM by PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA SONNET: DANTE (2) by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO JANE: THE INVITATION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY COR CORDIUM by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE TO RICH GIVERS by WALT WHITMAN |