HER hair is winged with summer nights, Her brow is like the dawn, Her voice is like an olden song That memory lingers on, And all her movements are as soft And gentle as a fawn. A lovely mild, and winsome girl Of strange and Eastern grace— I thought, "How happy art thou, child In whom all gifts find place," Till deep within her eyes I saw The story of her race. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXCELLENCY OF CHRIST by GILES FLETCHER THE YOUNGER AMOR MUNDI by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO WAKEN AN OLD LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE WILD DUCK'S NEST by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MAN AND NATURE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |