SHE twankled a tune on her light guitar -- A low, sweet jangle of tangled sounds, As blurred as the voices of the fairies are, Dancing in moondawn dales and downs; And the tinkling drip of the strange refrain Ran over the rim of my soul like rain. The great blond moon in the midnight skies Paused and poised o'er the trellis eaves, And the stars, in the light of her upturned eyes, Sifted their love through the rifted leaves -- Glittered and splintered in crystal mist Down the glittering strings that her fingers kissed. O the melody mad! O the tinkle and thrill Of the ecstasy of the exquisite thing! The red rose dropped from the window-sill And lay in a long swoon quivering; While the dying notes of the strain divine Rippled in glee up my spell-bound spine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUA CURSUM VENTUS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH EPITHALAMION MADE AT LINCOLNES INNE by JOHN DONNE THE FACTORY; 'TIS AN ACCURSED THING! by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY ENOCH ARDEN by ALFRED TENNYSON THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BASSE SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 3 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |