The little child across the street— Why does she wave to me? What sees she in my wasted form To hail so joyously? Her olive face and curly hair Are tidings of earth-peace, Her golden smile's a wealth of joy That bids my sorrows cease. To me she is a fairy sprite— A heavenly harbinger Whose sun-kissed eyes are songs of God— But what am I to her? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON ANOTHER'S SORROW, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MAY AND DEATH by ROBERT BROWNING ON HEARING OF INTENTION .. TO PURCHASE THE POET'S FREEDOM by GEORGE MOSES HORTON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 48 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN WILD SWANS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY |