LIKE the blush upon the rose When the wooing south wind speaks, Kissing soft its petals, Are thy cheeks. Tender, soft, beseeching, true, Like the stars that deck the skies Through the ether sparkling, Are thine eyes. Like the song of happy birds, When the woods with spring rejoice, In their blithe awak'ning, Is thy voice. Like soft threads of clustered silk O'er thy face so pure and fair, Sweet in its profusion, Is thy hair. Like a fair but fragile vase, Triumph of the carver's art, Graceful formed and slender, -- Thus thou art. Ah, thy cheek, thine eyes, thy voice, And thy hair's delightful wave Make me, I'll confess it, Thy poor slave! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW KILLED AT THE FORD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 94 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE OUT OF THE HILLS by IRENE ARCHER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 39. NOT CHRIST, BUT CHRIST'S GOD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |