'TWAS late, and the gay company was gone, And light lay soft on the deserted room From alabaster vases, and a scent Of orange leaves, and sweet verbena came Through the unshutter'd window on the air, And the rich pictures with their dark old tints Hung like a twilight landscape, and all things Seem'd hush'd into a slumber. Isabel, The dark-eyed, spiritual Isabel Was leaning on her harp, and I had stay'd To whisper what I could not when the crowd Hung on her look like worshippers. I knelt, And with the fervor of a lip unused To the cool breath of reason, told my love. There was no answer, and I took the hand That rested on the strings, and press'd a kiss Upon it unforbidden -- and again Besought her, that this silent evidence That I was not indifferent to her heart, Might have the seal of one sweet syllable. I kiss'd the small white fingers as I spoke, And she withdrew them gently, and upraised Her forehead from its resting-place, and look'd Earnestly on me -- @3She had been asleep!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: FLEECING TIME by EDITH SITWELL THE BANKS O' DOON by ROBERT BURNS ACCOUNTABILITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CROTALUS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE JEWISH HYMN IN BABYLON by HENRY HART MILMAN TIPPERARY: 3. AS THE INTERLINEARS MIGHT TAKE IT FROM XENOPHON by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS EPIGRAM ON THE COUNTESS OF SOMERSET'S PICTURE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) LIFE AND LOVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. I HEARD A VOICE by EDWARD CARPENTER |