WHILE on the cliff with calm delight she kneels, And the blue vales a thousand joys recall, See, to the last, last verge her infant steals! O, fly -- yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall. -- Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare, And the fond boy springs back to nestle there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN THE WORLD by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER THE SOUND OF THE TREES by ROBERT FROST ROUGE BOUQUET [MARCH 7, 1918] by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER A DREAM OF DEATH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS APRIL by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 29. CHRIST AND ENGLAND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) EPISTLE TO HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON by SAMUEL DANIEL |