DEAR Lady, tapping at your door, Some little verses stand, And beg on this auspicious day To come and kiss your hand. Their syllables all counted right Their rhymes each in its place, Like birthday children, at the door They wait to see your face. Rise, lady, rise and let them in; Fresh from the fairy shore, They bring you things you wish to have, Each in its pinafore. For they have been to Wishing-land This morning in the dew, And all your dearest wishes bring -- All granted -- home to you. What these may be, they would not tell, And could not if they would; They take the packets sealed to you As trusty servants should. But there was one that looked like love, And one that smelt like health, And one that had a jingling sound -- I fancy it might be wealth. Ah, well, they are but wishes still; But, lady dear, for you I know that all you wish is kind, I pray it all come true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO SONGS OF A FOOL: 2 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ROME. AT THE PYRAMID OF CESTIUS NEAR THE GRAVES OF SHELLEY by THOMAS HARDY EARLY DEATH AND FAME by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE STORM by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 16 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE HECATOMB TO HIS MISTRESS by JOHN CLEVELAND FRAGMENTS OF THE MYSTERY OF THE FALL by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |