I met her first, half-turning up the stair, Her foot just lifted from the rug in hall. She stopped, as timid at her father's call. He introduced me. She pushed back her hair With one hand, struggling long to play the host, Though silent, and, as if afraid to fall, She clung and leaned against the newel-post With the other . . . girl-and-woman lithe and tall, In flowing saffron muslin. With full throat And large black lashes over large blue eyes, A queen of ladies . . . what had she to fear? And when I thanked her, with an anecdote And kindly jest, for household courtesies, She spoke, and almost laughingly drew near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG BULLFROGS by CARL SANDBURG FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT; SONG by ROBERT BURNS THE IMMORTAL MIND by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SLEEPY HOLLOW by WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING (1817-1901) RESURRECTION, IMPERFECT by JOHN DONNE SORROW by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE |