THE lover whose soul shaken is In some decuman billow of bliss, Who feels his gradual-wading feet Sink in some sudden hollow of sweet, And 'mid love's used converse comes Sharp on a mood which all joy sums, An instant's fine compendium of The liberal-leaved writ of love -- His abashed pulses beating thick At the exigent joy and quick, Is dumbed, by aiming utterance great Up to the miracle of his fate. The wise girl, such Icarian fall Saved by her confidence that she's small, -- As what no kindred word will fit Is uttered best by opposite, Love in the tongue of hate exprest, And deepest anguish in a jest, -- Feeling the infinite must be Best said by triviality, Speaks, where expression bates its wings, Just happy, alien, little things; What of all words is in excess Implies in a sweet nothingness; With dailiest babble shows her sense That full speech were full impotence; And, while she feels the heavens lie bare, She only talks about her hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH WHAT THING A BIRD WOULD LOVE by ROBERT FROST YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WALKING MAN OF RODIN by CARL SANDBURG |