Herself about him like a flowering vine,
Drawing his lips to cling upon her own.
A ray of sunlight pierced the leaves to shine
Where her half-opened bodice let be shown
Her white throat fluttering to his soft caress,
Half-gasping with her gladness. And her pledge
She whispers, melting with delight. A twig
Snaps in the hornbeam hedge.
A cackling laugh tears through the quietness.
Eunice starts up in terrible distress.
“My God! What's that?” Her staring eyes are big.
Pickthorn Manor: 33
Amy Lowell
(1)
Poem topics: god, white, hedge, laugh, delight, terrible, shine, soft, throat, sunlight, distress, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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