A WOMAN'S figure, on a ground of night Inlaid with sallow stars that dimly stare Down in the lonesome eyes, uplifted there As in vague hope some alien lance of light Might pierce their woe. The tears that blind her sight -- The salt and bitter blood of her despair -- Her hands toss back through torrents of her hair And grip toward God with anguish infinite. And O the carven mouth, with all its great Intensity of longing frozen fast In such a smile as well may designate The slowly murdered heart, that, to the last, Conceals each newer wound, and back at Fate Throbs Love's eternal lie -- "Lo, I can wait!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL [JUNE 16, 1775] by CLINTON SCOLLARD BIRTH by ANNIE RAYMOND STILLMAN TO MY FRIEND MR. THOMAS FLATMAN, ON THE PUBLISHING OF THESE HIS POEMS by FRANCIS BARNARD (D. 1698) ECLOGUE: TWO FARMS IN WOONE by WILLIAM BARNES TO CLARE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |