She took the dappled partridge flecked with blood, And in her hand the drooping pheasant bare, And by his feet she held the woolly hare, And like a master-painting where she stood, Looked some new goddess of an English wood. Nor could I find an imperfection there, Nor blame the wanton act that showed so fair -- To me whatever freak she plays is good. @3Hers@1 is the fairest Life that breathes with breath, And @3their@1 still plumes and azure eyelids closed Made quiet Death so beautiful to see That Death lent grace to Life and Life to Death And in one image Life and Death reposed, To make my love an Immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FIESOLAN IDYL by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A RONDEL OF LUVE [LOVE] by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) EL HOMBRE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE INNER VISION by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PENT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON SOLOMON'S SONG by REGINA MIRIAM BLOCH A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 12 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |