HIS head within my bosom lay, But yet his spirit slipped not through: I only felt the burning clay That withered for the cooling dew. It was but pity when I spoke And called him to my heart for rest, And half a mother's love that woke Feeling his head upon my breast: And half the lion's tenderness To shield her cubs from hurt or death, Which, when the serried hunters press, Makes terrible her wounded breath. But when the lips I breathed upon Asked for such love as equals claim— I looked where all the stars were gone Burned in the day's immortal flame. "Come thou like yon great dawn to me From darkness vanquished, battles done: Flame unto flame shall flow and be Within thy heart and mine as one." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: PRELUDE. THE WAYSIDE INN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO MY CHILDREN: 3 by DOLLIE CAROLINE MAITLAND RADFORD REUBEN BRIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH WHERE LIES THE LAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH WAR NOTES: 1. 'EXTRAS' by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |