Explore "The Ideal" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Thee have I seen in some waste Arden old, / A white-browed maiden by a foaming stream, / With eyes profound and looks like threaded gold, / And features like a dream.
/ Upon thy wrist the jessied falcon fleet, / A silver poniard chased with imageries / Hung at a buckled belt, while at thy feet / The gasping heron dies.