WHO else, dear eyes of brown, could know or dream Our thousand foolish tender little ways? Absurdities and trifles though they seem, They are the salt and savor of our days! They are too quaint and too ridiculous To name them here, or publicly explain; For what is deep significance to us Would, to the general, prove quite insane! And I, who must be prim ten hours a day And talk choplogic, and seem wise, severe -- How blithely do I cast pretence away And whisper sheerest moonshine in your ear! Your laughter is so sweet, it strikes me dumb To think how suddenly life's partings come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OMNIPRESENCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STAR-TALK by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES ON HEARING A LITTLE MUSIC-BOX by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT FOR THE YOUNGEST by CHARLES WESLEY THE LOST CHILD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN; A SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |