(Striving so piteously!), she grew as one Forever apart from all good wives of earth; 'Twas not alone each mood gave impulse birth, Before a thought could check, in rain or sun; But thoughts themselves clasped in false unison How often, quaintly incoordinate; And memory lapsed both when she walked and sate, And clock would strike with promised task undone. Then, too, her vision of life, its lures, its lies, Its garrulous people stepping to and fro, Was prismed through her own peculiar eyes By light which through them from within would flow. (She lacked -- O terrible beauty of her fate -- Uncannily all power to doubt or hate.) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAR IS KIND: 23 by STEPHEN CRANE PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE WORK by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN THE BELLS AT MIDNIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 55. ALLAH-AL-MATEEN by EDWIN ARNOLD |