Ah! little fly, alighting fitfully In the dim dawn on this bare head of mine, Which spreads a white and gleaming track for thee, When chairs and dusky wardrobes cease to shine. Though thou art irksome, let me not complain; Thy foolish passion for my hairless head Will spend itself, when these dark hours are sped, And thou shalt seek the sunlight on the pane. But still beware! thou art on dangerous ground: An angry sonnet, or a hasty hand, May slander thee, or crush thee: thy shrill sound And constant touch may shake my self-command: And thou mayst perish in that moment's spite, And die a martyr to thy love of light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOST SHEEP by ELIZABETH CECILIA CLEPHANE SONG OF THE RABBITS OUTSIDE THE TAVERN by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH EVENING by GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 4. REVEILLE by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SUNSET-MOOD by STANLEY E. BABB |