A STILL, sweet, placid, moonlight face, And slightly nonchalant, Which seems to claim a middle place Between one's love and aunt, Where childhood's star has left a ray In woman's sunniest sky, As morning dew and blushing day On fruit and blossom lie. And yet, -- and yet I cannot love Those lovely lines on steel; They beam too much of heaven above, Earth's darker shades to feel; Perchance some early weeds of care Around my heart have grown, And brows unfurrowed seem not fair, Because they mock my own. Alas! when Eden's gates were sealed, How oft some sheltered flower Breathed o'er the wanderers of the field, Like their own bridal bower; Yet, saddened by its loveliness, And humbled by its pride, Earth's fairest child they could not bless, -- It mocked them when they sighed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 10 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HE WROTE THE HISTORY BOOK,' IT SAID by MARIANNE MOORE FESTE'S SONG (1), FR. TWELFTH NIGHT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HYMN OF PAN by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE MAY QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON IN A GARRET by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN STANZAS, COMPOSED WHILE WALKING ON WARREN HILL, EARLY SUMMER'S MORNING by BERNARD BARTON |