WHEN as abroad, to greet the morn, I mark my Graciosa walk, In homage bends the whisp'ring corn, Yet to confess Its awkwardness Must hang its head upon the stalk. And when she talks, her lips do heal The wounds her lightest glances give: In pity then be harsh, and deal Such wounds that I May hourly die, And, by a word restored, live. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BURIED LADY by PAUL VALERY CHANSON D'AUTOMNE by PAUL VERLAINE A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE by THOMAS CAREW GOLIATH AND DAVID by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES HIS PRAYER FOR ABSOLUTION by ROBERT HERRICK EPITAPH (ON A COMMONPLACE PERSON WHO DIED IN BED) by AMY LEVY |