THE waxen taper faintly gleamed, And waxen-white she lay Upon her silken bed, and dreamed,— Dreamed of her wedding-day. Her hand upon a scroll was cast, Where it was writ in red: "@3Each lover-errant holds at last His lady's golden head.@1" But, bowed as one that sorroweth, The sombre Nympholept, The Lover of the Virgins,—Death His quiet vigil kept. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |