NOW when I came to that first stile ('Twas spring again, my dear) I raised my head, and thanked my God; I spoke it loud and clear. When to the second stile I came, (These April days are fleet) I murmured: "Here a kiss she gave, And how that kiss was sweet!" . . . But when the third stile stayed my foot, (Look where the shadows fall) I bent my head, with misted eyes, And spoke no word at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE REVEALER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON VENUS OF THE LOUVRE by EMMA LAZARUS CANTICLE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN RETROSPECTIONS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON SHELTER by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY OLD HOMES by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN |