A LITTLE shallow silver urn, High in the east the new moon hung; Amid the palms a fountain flung Its snowy floss, and there, above, With its impassioned unconcern, A hidden bird discoursed of love. I felt your hand upon my arm Flutter as doth a thrush's wing, Then tighten. Sweet, how small a thing Draws kindred spirits heart to heart! More was that hour's elusive charm To us than eloquence or art. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: CARL HAMBLIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A POET'S FANCIES: 8. THE MODERN POET; A SONG OF DERIVATIONS by ALICE MEYNELL TRAVEL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HELIADES: ZEUS, BRAZEN THUNDER-HURLER by AESCHYLUS TWO GRANDMOTHERS by IRENE ARCHER THE TRUIMPH OF ART by JOSEPHINE TURCK BAKER THE NEW WORLD; TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES by LAURENCE BINYON |