The works of Francis Thompson | ||
220
‘CHOSE VUE’
A Metrical Caprice
Up she rose, fair daughter—well she was graced,As a cloud her going, stept from her chair,
As a summer-soft cloud in her going paced,
Down dropped her riband-band, and all her waving hair
Shook like loosened music cadent to her waist;—
Lapsing like music, wavery as water,
Slid to her waist.
The works of Francis Thompson | ||