COME let us talk together, While the sunset fades and dies, And, darling, look into my heart, And not into my eyes. Let us sit and talk together In the old, familiar place, But look deep down into my heart, Not up into my face. And with tender pity shield me -- I am just a withered bough -- I was used to have your praises, And you cannot praise me now. You would nip the blushing roses; They were blighted long ago, But the precious roots, my darling, Are alive beneath the snow. And in the coming spring-time They will all to beauty start -- Oh, look not in my face, beloved, But only in my heart! You will not find the little buds, So tender and so bright; They are snowed so deeply under, They will never come to light. So look, I pray you, in my heart, And not into my face, And think about that coming spring Of greenness and of grace, When from the winter-laden bough The weight of snow shall drop away, And give it strength to spring into The life of endless May. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. THE DOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CALDWELL OF SPRINGFIELD [JUNE 23, 1780] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE PELTERS OF PYRAMIDS by RICHARD HENGIST (HENRY) HORNE SONNET: 86 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE EXTEMPORE EFFUSION UPON THE DEATH OF JAMES HOGG by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |