Beauty to her was less in rough, gray thunder Than in the little waves along the shoal; Beauty to her was less in words than wonder, Less wonder than a triumphing of soul. In hourly intervals of white desire Her body fell a prey to Beauty's plunder. Afar, pale signals seemed her spirit's fire -- Her more articulate ashes told our blunder. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EDITH CONANT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS RHYMES OF THE DAY by GEORGE SANTAYANA A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM, THE MURDERER by THOMAS HOOD VICTOR GALBRAITH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW VERSES TO MR. C by ALEXANDER POPE FAIRIES' SONG by THOMAS RANDOLPH TO GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, ESQ., ON SEEING HIS PICTURE ... by MATTHEW ARNOLD |