Morns like these — we parted —
Noons like these — she rose —
Fluttering first — then firmer
To her fair repose.

Never did she lisp it —
It was not for me —
She — was mute from transport —
I — from agony —

Till — the evening nearing
One the curtains drew —
Quick! A Sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!

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1 Comment

  1. Bianca says:

    I can’t believe no one has commented on this yet! It really is wonderful, well I guess I’ll be the first! (: I really love this poem and I like it’s meaning.

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