Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/Her Simile
< Poems (Piatt) | Volume 2
HER SIMILE.
If you should see a statue, one
Whose marble name was Silence, sit alone,
Whiter than Death and sadder, in the sun,
With stony finger pressed to lips of stone;
Whose marble name was Silence, sit alone,
Whiter than Death and sadder, in the sun,
With stony finger pressed to lips of stone;
If from those lips, themselves so still,
A fountain's waters restlessly should start,
And make a little troubled murmur, till
They all were dry: this would be like my heart.
A fountain's waters restlessly should start,
And make a little troubled murmur, till
They all were dry: this would be like my heart.