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...THE SANDS OF DEE by CHARLES KINGSLEY BROODING GRIEF by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 10. THE PORTRAIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI BISHOP BRUNO by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE WHITE BIRDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE GOLDEN AGE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN VERSES FROM THE 'ANNALIA DUBRENSIA' by WILLIAM BASSE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 3 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |