Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE ORIENTAL NOSEGAY, BY PICKERSGILL, by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Through the light curtains came the perfumed air Last Line: Fling, fling the flowers away! Alternate Author Name(s): L. E. L.; Maclean, Letitia Subject(s): Flowers; Paintings & Painters | ||||||||
THROUGH the light curtains came the perfumed air, And flung them back and show'd a garden, where The eye could just catch glimpses of those trees Which send sweet messages upon the breeze To lull a maiden's sleep, and fan her cheek, When inward thoughts in outward blushes speak, Beneath's a silken couch, just fit to be A snowy shrine for some fair deity; And there a beauty rests, lovely as those Enchanted visions haunting the repose Of the young poet, when his eyelids shut To dream that love they have but dream'd as yet; -- But dream'd! Alas, that love should ever be A happiness but made for phantasie! And flowers are by her side, and her dark eye Seems as it read in them her destiny. She knew whose hand had gather'd them, she knew Whose sigh and touch were on their seent and hue. Beautiful language! Love's peculiar, own, But only to the spring and summer known. Ah! little marvel in such clime and age As that of our too earth-bound pilgrimage, That we should daily hear that love is fled, And hope grown pale, and lighted feelings dead. Not for the cold, the careless to impart, By such sweet signs, the silence of teh heart: But surely in the countries where the sun Lights loveliness in all he shines upon, -- Where love is as a mystery and a dream, One single flower upon life's troubled stream; There, there, perchance, may the young bosom thrill, Feeling and fancy linger with love still. She look'd upon the blossoms, and a smile, A twilight one, lit up her lip the while. Surely her love is blest, no leaves are there That aught of lover's misery declare. True, 'mid them is that pale and pining flower. Whose dim blue colour speaks an absent hour, Yet it is nothing but that tender sorrow Of those who part to-day to meet to-morrow: For there are hope and constancy beside, -- And are not these to happiness allied? And yet upon that maiden's cheek is caught A summer evening's shade of pensive thought, As if those large soft eyes knew all their fate, How the heart would its destiny create, -- At once too tender, and too passionate; -- Too made for happiness to be happy here, An angel fetter'd to an earthly sphere. -- And those dark eyes, so large, so soft, so bright, So clear as if their very tears were light, They tell that destiny. Art thou not one To whom love will be like the summer sun, That feeds the diamond in the sccret mine, Then calls it from its solitude to shine, And piece by piece be broken? Watch the bloom, And mark its fading to an early tomb, And read in the decay upon it stealing Of thy own wasted hope and wither'd feeling. Ay, fitting messengers for love! as fair, As quickly past, as his own visions are. Fling, fling the flowers away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...1801: AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE ENVOY TO CONSTANTINOPLE by RICHARD HOWARD VENETIAN INTERIOR, 1889 by RICHARD HOWARD THERE IS A GOLD LIGHT IN CERTAIN OLD PAINTINGS by DONALD JUSTICE DUTCH INTERIORS by JANE KENYON INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 3 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE CHINA PAINTERS by TED KOOSER ELEGY FOR SOL LEWITT by ANN LAUTERBACH ON THE SEPARATION OF ADAM AND EVE by TIMOTHY LIU CALYPSO WATCHING THE OCEAN by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON |
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