The steeple scatters its doves Like an overblown rosetree When the chime moves. She must bear music alone, Shutting her chamber windows Now you are gone? Gone -- but your memory sings, Overtones, life of her living, A belfry of wings. Ghosts should be seemly, still, But wild in her heart you are waking At the chime's will. And rapt as a pair Of doves with the carillon pealing Your wings ride the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ELEGY: 18. LOVES PROGRESS by JOHN DONNE THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW ALCAICS: TO H. F. BROWN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON MY PRAYER FOR TODAY by MAUD AKERS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 30. THE HUNTER CAUGHT BY HIS OWN GAMER by PHILIP AYRES |