SWEET, serene, sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower: From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head. New-startled blush of Flora! The grief of pale Aurora, Who will contest no more, Haste, haste, to strow her floor. Vermilion ball that's given From lip to lip in heaven; Love's couch's coverled, Haste, haste, to make her bed. Dear offspring of pleas'd Venus And jolly plump Silenus, Haste, haste, to deck the hair Of th' only sweetly fair. See! rosy is her bower, Her floor is all this flower, Her bed a rosy nest By a bed of roses press'd. But early as she dresses, Why fly you her bright tresses? Ah! I have found I fear: Because her cheeks are near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN THE TRANSFORMATION OF A TEXAS GIRL by JAMES BARTON ADAMS FIDELIA ARGUING WITH HER SELF ON THE DIFFICULTY FINDING TRUE RELIGION by JANE BARKER ECLOGUE: TWO FARMS IN WOONE by WILLIAM BARNES THE GLORY OF GRAY by CHRISTINE F. BRONSON LINES COMPOSED FOR A MEMORIAL OF ASHLEY COWPER, ESQ by WILLIAM COWPER |