A marvel to me is my lady’s hand;
‘Tis not that plump, thick-palmed and dimpled thing
With pointed ends and almond nails ye sing,
Ye other poets, in your phrases grand.
White, long and taper, pliant as a wand,
The pulsing currents coursing through it sting
Its nerves to action, rapid as the wing
With which the nest-bound ringdove spurns the land.
It feels in every fibre; almost talks,
To help her tongue by any thought oppressed,
Falling in balm upon the heart oppressed.
This hand hath influence; it entreats, it balks,
Directs, compels, or worships, as she walks,
With palms thus folded on her gentle breast.
(George Henry Boker)
More Poetry from George Henry Boker:
George Henry Boker Poems based on Topics: Mind, Thought & Thinking, Poets, Literature, Actions, Worship- Vestigia Retrorsum (George Henry Boker Poems)
- The Crossing At Fredericksbu (George Henry Boker Poems)
- Tardy George (George Henry Boker Poems)
- March Along (George Henry Boker Poems)
- The Black Regiment (George Henry Boker Poems)
- Ad Poetas (George Henry Boker Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Literature Poems, Poets Poems, Worship Poems, Actions PoemsBased on Keywords: entreats, compels, balks, ringdove