The Veil
I think and think: yet still I fail — Why must this lady wear a veil?
Why thus elect to mask her
Beneath that dainty web of lace?
The tip of a small nose I see,
And two red lips, set
Like twin-born berries on one stem,
And yet, she has netted even them.
Her eyes, 'tis plain, survey with
Whate'er to glance upon they please.
Yet, whether hazel, gray, or blue,
Or that even lovelier lilac hue,
I cannot guess: why — why
Such beauty to the passer-by?
Out of a bush a
May expound his song; from 'neath that veilA happy mouth no doubt can
English sound sweeter for its sake.
But then, why muffle in like
What every blossomy wind would kiss?
Why in that little night disguiseA daybreak face, those starry eyes?
Walter de la Mare
Other author posts
Good-bye
The last of last words spoken is, Good-bye -The last dismantled flower in the weed-grown hedge, The last thin rumour of a feeble bell far ringing, The last blind rat to spurn the mildewed rye
Nod
Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew Old Nod, the shepherd, goes His drowsy flock streams on before him, Their fleeces charged with gold, To where the sun's last beam leans lo...
The Ghost
Peace in thy hands, Peace in thine eyes, Peace on thy brow; Flower of a moment in the eternal hour,
The Sleeper
As Ann came in one summer's day, She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house, It seemed a house of sleep