MY Carmia, my life, my saint, No flower is sweet enough to paint Thy sweet, sweet face for me! The rose-leaf nails, the slender wrist, The hand, the whitest ever kissed -- Dear Carmia, what has Raphael missed In never seeing thee! Oh to be back among the days Wherein she blessed me with her praise -- She knew not how to frown! The memory of that time doth seem Like dreaming of a lovely dream, Or like a golden broider-seam Stitched in some homely gown. No silken skein is half so soft As those long locks I combed so oft -- No tender tearful skies -- No violet darkling into jet -- And all with daybreak dew-drops wet -- No star, when first the sun is set, Is like my Carmia's eyes. But not the dainty little wrist, Nor hand, the whitest ever kissed, Nor face, so sweet to see, Nor words of praise, that so did bless, Nor rose-leaf nail, nor silken tress, Made her so dear to me. 'T was nothing my poor words can tell, Nor charm of chance, nor magic spell To wane, and waste, and fall -- I loved her to the utmost strain Of heart and soul and mind and brain, And Carmia loved me back again, And that is all-and-all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE BILLEE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY FIRST LOVE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS MID-OCEAN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE SILVER BIRD OF HERNDYKE MILL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE POET'S ESTATE by ANNIE C. BURTON THREE BLACK CROWS by JOHN BYROM TO A SULPHUR-CRESTED COCKATOO by MARY NICHOL CAMPBELL TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. LIFE BEHIND LIFE by EDWARD CARPENTER |