Dining with him at home, she looked between Tall candles at his strange, familiar face . . . A face still so bewildering when seen Across a table . . . or in any place Where he was shaken free from her, and she Must stifle old desires to beat the bars That caged their passionate identity, As distant and as secret as the stars. Sometimes, when he was shaving, she would stare Until his face seemed silly . . . like a word, Sane and distinct when other words are there . . . Now empty, ineffectual, and blurred. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE THE ENEMY'S PORTRAIT by THOMAS HARDY A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 63 by PHILIP SIDNEY EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 4. FOR FRANCES ANN by ALBERTA BANCROFT PROLOGUE TO THE PLAY OF HENRY THE EIGHTH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |