MORN hath a secret that she never tells: 'Tis on her lips and in her maiden eyes -- I think it is the way to Paradise, Or of the Fount of Youth the crystal wells. The bee hath no such honey in her cells Sweet as the balm that in her bosom lies, As in her garden of the budding skies She walks among the silver asphodels. He that is loveless and of heart forlorn, Let him but leave behind his haunted bed, And set his feet toward yonder singing star, Shall have for sweetheart this same secret morn; She shall come running to him from afar, And on her cool breast lay his lonely head. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BISHOP BLOUGRAM'S APOLOGY by ROBERT BROWNING UP AT A VILLA - DOWN IN THE CITY by ROBERT BROWNING LIFE'S MIRROR by MARY AINGE DE VERE THE ROPEWALK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW REMEMBERED MUSIC; A FRAGMENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: FOURTH SONG by PHILIP SIDNEY |