MY smile is bright, my glance is free, My voice is calm and clear; Dear friend, I seem a type to thee Of holy love and fear. But I am scann'd by eyes unseen, And these no saint surround; They mete what is by what has been, And joy the lost is found. Erst my good Angel shrank to see My thoughts and ways of ill; And now he scarce dare gaze on me, Scar-seam'd and crippled still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TROY PARK: 1. THE WARMTH OF SPRING by EDITH SITWELL DECEPTION PASS; FOR JUDY AND MARK KAWASAKI by KAREN SWENSON NOT OURS THE VOWS by BERNARD BARTON THE LONELY DEATH by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY IN HOSPITAL: 3. INTERIOR by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK THE LAST CHANTEY by RUDYARD KIPLING THE BIGLOW PAPERS: 6. THE PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |