A pinch of spice, a crust of fairy bread, With wild bees' honey and with comfits spread, A stalk of cherries, a wild strawberry's stain, And two small crumpled rose-leaves wet with rain; -- Such for her cheeks: but O, now for her hair, What sunbeams cast such shadowiness, and where? But for her eye, I think some woodland elf Laughed in that looking-glass to see himself. And when she sighed in dreams, a drowsy wren Hopped her sweet mouth into from off her chin, And in her throat entwined a tiny nest Wherein to pipe the song a wren knows best. . . Lo! then, the house where dwells, O, who can say -- A soul still winking at the break of day; From those bright starry windows still to peep And shut those shutters when 'tis time to sleep; To op'n those scarlet doors, and learn to cry How sweet a 'you', how wonderful an 'I'! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONGING FOR HEAVEN by ANNE BRADSTREET FANCY IN NUBIBUS; OR, THE POET IN THE CLOUDS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE THE DYING SOLDIER by ISAAC ROSENBERG WINTERTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WYATT BEING IN PRISON, TO BRIAN by THOMAS WYATT TO HIS WIFE WITH A KNIFE ON THE 14TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY by SAMUEL BISHOP |