Her end is yonder, certain as the night Above a staved ship with mortal list; But do you mark, O wise psychologist, Each cunning means? Each subtle pang and blight? -- Whereof but one had been enough to smite The brain of woman in her bridal song, Had it been bound with bands tenfold more strong Than the doomed lady's in the House of White; And yonder my collapse, sure as the abyss Beneath the broken thigh, the bleeding nail Of clinging mountaineer; but do you trace Each ineluctable Antithesis? -- Whereof but one had hurled from off the trail A manhood tenfold mine in pride of place? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD BRIDGE AT FLORENCE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM OF A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK by THOMAS MOORE ROCOCO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE DEAD LOVE by MARY MATHEWS ADAMS THE BLUEBIRD by WILLIAM P. ALEXANDER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 7. AL-MAUMIN by EDWIN ARNOLD A WINTER DAY by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE THE RECOLLECTION OF THE PEOPLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: CHARLES AVISON by ROBERT BROWNING |