WHO would have thought That, not having missed her Talks, tears, laughter In absence, or sought To recall for so long Her gamut of song; Or ever to waft her Signal of aught That she, fancy-fanned, Would well understand, I should have kissed her Picture when scanned Yawning years after! Yet, seeing her poor Dim-outlined form Chancewise at night-time, Some old allure Came on me, warm, Fresh, pleadful, pure, As in that bright time At a far season Of love and unreason, And took me by storm Here in this blight-time! And thus it arose That, yawning years after Our early flows Of wit and laughter, And framing of rhymes At idle times, At sight of her painting, Though she lies cold In churchyard mould, I took its feinting As real, and kissed it, As if I had wist it Herself of old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE ANTIQUE (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PSALM 14. DIXIT INSIPIENS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ON THE NIGHT EXPRESS by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE DAWN OF EVENING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HARVEST OUT OF STONE by VERNE BRIGHT LINES ON THE DEPARTURE OF EMIGRANTS FOR NEW SOUTH WALES by THOMAS CAMPBELL |