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Poem by Richard Watson Gilder


The New Day. Part 4. 3. Likeness in Unlikeness


We are alike, and yet, O strange and sweet!
Each in the other difference discerns;
⁠      So the torn strands the maiden's finger turns
⁠      Opposing ways, when they again do meet
Clasp each in each, as flame clasps into heat;
      ⁠So when this hand on this cool bosom burns,
      ⁠Each sense is lost in the other. So two urns
      ⁠Do, side by side, the selfsame lines repeat,
But various color gives a lovelier grace,
      ⁠And each by contrast still more fine has grown.
⁠      Thus, Love, it was, I did forget thy face
As more and more to me thy soul was known;
⁠      Vague in my mind it grew till, in its place,
⁠      Another came I knew not from my own. 



Richard Watson Gilder


Richard Watson Gilder's other poems:
  1. The New Day. Part 4. 2. The Mirror
  2. The New Day. Part 3. 5. “I Will Be Brave for Thee”
  3. The Celestial Passion. Part 2. 3. A Madonna of Fra Lippo Lippi
  4. The New Day. Part 4. 16. “Love Is Not Bond to Any Man”
  5. The New Day. Part 2. 1. Words without Song


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