SHE will not smile; She will not stir; I marvel while I look on her. The lips are chilly And will not speak; The ghost of a lily In either cheek. Her hair -- ah me! Her hair -- her hair! How helplessly My hands go there! But my caresses Meet not hers, O golden tresses That thread my tears! I kiss the eyes On either lid, Where her love lies Forever hid. I cease my weeping And smile and say: I will be sleeping Thus, some day! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DRUG-SHOP, OR, ENDYMION IN EDMONSTOUN by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 23 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT BY CANDLELIGHT by MARION BRINSON DUTY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE FUGITIVE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |