All the heavy days are over; Leave the body's coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. One with her are mirth and duty, Bear the gold embroidered dress, For she needs not her sad beauty, To the scented oaken press. Hers the kiss of Mother Mary, The long hair is on her face; Still she goes with footsteps wary, Full of earth's old timid grace. With white feet of angels seven Her white feet go glimmering And above the deep of heaven, Flame on flame and wing on wing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I MAY, I MIGHT, I MUST by MARIANNE MOORE LETTER TO JOSEPH WARREN by ROBERT FROST TO THE MEMORY OF INEZ MILHOLLAND by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE COTTON CLUB by CLARENCE MAJOR WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OSCAR HUMMEL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |