COME let us talk together, While the sunset fades and dies, And, darling, look into my heart, And not into my eyes. Let us sit and talk together In the old, familiar place, But look deep down into my heart, Not up into my face. And with tender pity shield me -- I am just a withered bough -- I was used to have your praises, And you cannot praise me now. You would nip the blushing roses; They were blighted long ago, But the precious roots, my darling, Are alive beneath the snow. And in the coming spring-time They will all to beauty start -- Oh, look not in my face, beloved, But only in my heart! You will not find the little buds, So tender and so bright; They are snowed so deeply under, They will never come to light. So look, I pray you, in my heart, And not into my face, And think about that coming spring Of greenness and of grace, When from the winter-laden bough The weight of snow shall drop away, And give it strength to spring into The life of endless May. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET TRANSLUCENT FINGERS by MALCOLM COWLEY TO RIDGELY TORRENCE - PLAYWRIGHT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A SEA-SHORE GRAVE by SIDNEY LANIER DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: GOTTLIEB GERALD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE |