Explore "The Quarrel" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Could I divine how her gray eyes / Gat such cold haughtiness of skies;
/ How, some wood-flower's shadow brown, / Dimmed her fair forehead's wrath a frown;
/ How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air, / Tossed scorn her eloquence of hair;
/ How to a folded bud again / She drew her blossomed lips' disdain;
/ Naught deigning save eyes' utterance, / Star-words, which quicker reach the sense;
/ Then, afterwards, how melted there / The austere woman to one tear;
/ Then were I wise to know how grew / This star-stained miracle of blue, / How God makes wild flowers out of dew.