It is not for her even brow And shining yellow hair, But it is for her tender eyes I think my love so fair; Her telltale eyes that smile and weep As frankly as they wake and sleep. It is not for her rounded cheek I love and fain would win, But it is for the blush that comes Straight from the heart within; The honest blush of maiden shame That blushes without thought of blame. So in my dreams I never hear Her song, although she sings As if a choir of spirits swept From earth with throbbing wings; I only hear the simple voice Whose love makes many hearts rejoice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE: CANTO 1 by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) RESIGNATION by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER A BUDDING MORROW by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER by EDWARD CARPENTER DARKNESS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |