Upon those lips, those placid lips, I look Nor grieve that they are still and mute as death; I gaze -- I read as in an Angel's Book, And ask not speech from them, but long for breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF AUTUMN by PAUL VERLAINE INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HIPPOLYTUS TEMPORIZES by HILDA DOOLITTLE THE WORLD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO THE LADY IN THE CHIMSETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS BIRDS OF PASSAGE: PRELUDE by MATHILDE BLIND LOVE POEMS: 1 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |