BLOWN in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon. What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee? Thou'rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon, And passing proud a little colour makes thee. If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives, Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane; For the same beauty doth, in bloody leaves, The sentence of thy early death contain. Some clown's coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower, If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn; And many Herods lie in wait each hour To murder thee as soon as thou art born -- Nay, force thy bud to blow -- their tyrant breath Anticipating life, to hasten death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE VALSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 2: 7. TO THE BODY by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE THE WIDOW'S LAMENT IN SPRINGTIME by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS UPON THE LATE LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT OF FIRE ... by JOHN ALLISON (1645-1683) NEXT DAY; IN THE TRAIN by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND, MR. N. TATE by PHILIP AYRES ALEXANDER VI DINES WITH THE CARDINAL OF CAPUA by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |