Morns like these - we parted Noons like these - she rose! Fluttering first - then firmer To her fair repose - Never did she lisp it And 'twas not for me - She was mute for transport I, for agony! Till the evening nearing One the shutters drew - Quick! a sharper rustling! And this linnet flew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JOHN WILKES BOOTH AT THE FARM (JANUARY 12, 1848) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, SELECTION by ANEIRIN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 5. BY LITTLE AND LITTLE by PHILIP AYRES QUATORZAINS: 9. TO MY LYRE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |