AH, God, the way your little finger moved As you thrust a bare arm backward And made play with your hair And a comb a silly gilt comb Ah, God -- that I should suffer Because of the way a little finger moved. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD COMPANY by KARLE WILSON BAKER TO CORINTH by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR VORTICIST POEM ON LOVE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE WORD OF SUMMER by ELSA BARKER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 40. PANTHEISTIC DREAMS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE FIRE SIDE; A PASTORAL SOLILOQUY by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE IDLER by EDWARD CARPENTER TO THE REV. W.J. HORT, WHILE TEACHING A YOUNG LADY ... ON HIS FLUTE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |