From Day's fair face the smile is gone; And in those languid eyes The soft light dimmer grows; while on Her brow so chaste there lies The damp of Nature's kiss,—as to her rest she hies. Except that wilful wind,—each thing Moves now with tip-toe tread, Strange, liveried ones are minist'ring In silence round her bed, And lo, a jewelled coverlet o'er her they spread! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEW YORK AT NIGHT by AMY LOWELL POLWART ON THE GREEN by ALLAN RAMSAY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: JENNY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI REMEMBER OR FORGET by C. HAMILTON AIDE STRANGE FILAMENT by LILLIAN M. (PETTES) AINSWORTH PSALM 10. UT QUID DOMINE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE FAREWELL. TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON by ROBERT BURNS A MEDIC GATHERS MUSHROOMS FOR HIS LADY by GRACE STONE COATES |