A Fleeting Passion



Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp,
Let's grimly kiss with bated breath;
As quietly and solemnly
As Life when it is kissing Death.
Now in the silence of the grave,
My hand is squeezing that soft breast;
While thou dost in such passion lie,
It mocks me with its look of rest.

But when the morning comes at last,
And we must part, our passions cold,
You'll think of some new feather, scarf
To buy with my small piece of gold;
And I'll be dreaming of green lanes,
Where little things with beating hearts
Hold shining eyes between the leaves,
Till men with horses pass, and carts.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 21, 2023

34 sec read
65

Quick analysis:

Scheme XAXAXBXB XCXCXDXD
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 590
Words 111
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 8, 8

William Henry Davies

William Henry Davies or W H Davies was a Welsh poet and writer Davies spent a significant part of his life as a tramp or vagabond in the United States and United Kingdom but became known as one of the most popular poets of his time The principal themes in his work are the marvels of nature observations about lifes hardships his own tramping adventures and the various characters he met Davies is usually considered as one of the Georgian poets although much of his work is atypical of the style and themes adopted by others of the genre more…

All William Henry Davies poems | William Henry Davies Books

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