Annunciata stands On the flat lands Under the pear-tree (Jangling sweetly). See, The cure-black leaves Are cawing like a rook . . . Annunciata grieves, "No young man will look At me with my harsh jangling hair Pink as the one pear (A flapping crude fish tinsel-pink Flapping across the consciousness Like laughter) and my tattered dress." Then from the brink Of the deep well, Sounding like a bell, From the castles under water The old men seek the beggar's daughter . . . Some were wrinkled grey From suicide grown gay And smiling, some were seen With ivy limbs green And gnarled with the water . . . "Dance a pavane, beggar's daughter" . . . They wooed her with book And the water's tuneless bell Wooed her as well -- A water-hidden sound achieves; And cawing like a rook Were the cure-black leaves . . . One feather-breast of dew was grey Upon round leaves -- they fled away. Only a moaning sound From the castles that lie drowned Beneath the fruit-boughs of the water Reached the beggar's daughter. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LONDON PLANE-TREE by AMY LEVY EIGHTEEN SIXTY-ONE by WALT WHITMAN MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT THE BROKEN PITCHER by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ROSES IN THE SUBWAY by DANA BURNET POETICAL ADDRESS TO MR. WILLIAM TYTLER by ROBERT BURNS THE WATCHER AT THE GATE by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS ANSWER TO -'S PROFESSSIONS OF AFFECTION by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |