IN my nostrils the summer wind Blows the exquisite scent of the rose: O for the golden, golden wind, Breaking the buds as it goes! Breaking the buds and bending the grass, And spilling the scent of the rose. O wind of the summer morn, Tearing the petals in twain, Wafting the fragrant soul Of the rose through valley and plain, I would you could tear my heart to-day And scatter its nameless pain! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FAREWELL by GEORGE GASCOIGNE SONNET TO NIGHT by JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE GHOST STARS by MADELEINE AARON TO HIS FRIEND IN ELYSIUM by JOACHIM DU BELLAY LINES SUGGESTED BY A LATE OCCURRENCE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND by MARY DOW BRINE HASTINGS' SONNETS: 5 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: WARNINGS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |