She yields: my Lady in her noblest mood Has yielded: she, my golden-crowned rose! The bride of every sense! more sweet than those Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood. O visage of still music in the sky! Soft moon! I feel thy song, my fairest friend! True harmony within can apprehend Dumb harmony without. And hark! 'tis nigh! Belief has struck the note of sound: a gleam Of living silver shows me where she shook Her long white fingers down the shadowy brook, That sings her song, half waking, half in dream. What two come here to mar this heavenly tune? A man is one: the woman bears my name, And honour. Their hands touch! Am I still tame? God, what a dancing spectre seems the moon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY PRETTY ROSE TREE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE COUNTING THE BEATS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES WOMEN MEN'S SHADOWS by BEN JONSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 55. ALLAH-AL-MATEEN by EDWIN ARNOLD FROM A DUSTY SHELF by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT THE ASSUMPTION by JOHN BEAUMONT GIVE NOT WITH YOUR HANDS by MACKNIGHT BLACK |