With narrow eyes below soft chains, a slave Empties my vases, in the mirror dives, Extends to the secret bed her pure, white hands: Within these walls a modest woman moves Who in my reverie cuts through my vision, Never once endangering abstraction, As by a simple glass the sun is caught Without the apparatus of pure thought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON IN A SWEDISH GRAVEYARD by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: FATHER WHIMSETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |