The Mistress - Poem by Ernestine Northover
Her face was delicate, and beautiful to know,
When touched by sunlight, or a candle's glow,
And weaving a dream around him, with cunning ease,
She knew by expertise, just how to please.
And he in turn, reached out and with delight,
Drew her close, and sensed that all was right,
So that leaving her tonight, would cause him pain
Within his heart, and that he must remain.
For to leave at all, no, this he could not do,
He looked at her again, and then he knew,
That she was his, forever and a day,
And that forever, he would have to pay!
© Ernestine Northover
Comments about The Mistress by Ernestine Northover
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl