Thou little bud of being, Edith named, With whom I've made acquaintance on this earth, Who knowest me without impediment, As flowers know the winds that stir their leaves, And rid'st upon my shoulders as the sphere, Turning on me thy sage reserved eye, Behind whose broad & charitable gaze Floats the still true & universal soul With the pure azure of the general day, Not yet a peopled & a vulgar town, Rather a pure untarnished country ground; For thou art whole, not yet begun to die, While men look on me with their shrivelled rays Streaming through some small chink of the broad sky; Pure youthful soul, thou hast begun to be, To cumulate thy sin & piety. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA by ROBERT BROWNING WRITTEN IN NORTHAMPTON COUNTY ASYLUM by JOHN CLARE MAIDENHOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ODES II, 10 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS THE KINGS OF THE EAST by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE HEART OF GOLD by WITTER BYNNER MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: SECOND SQUIRE (2) by THOMAS CAMPION WRETTEN BY ME ON THE DEATH OF MY CHILD ROBERT PAYLER by MARY CAREY |