TO BAYARD TAYLOR. HEREWITH I send you three pressed withered flowers: This one was white, with golden star; this, blue As Capri's cave; that, purple and shot through With sunset-orange. Where the Duomo towers In diamond air, and under hanging bowers The Arno glides, this faded violet grew On Landor's grave; from Landor's heart it drew Its magic azure in the long spring hours. Within the shadow of the Pyramid Of Caius Cestius was the daisy found, White as the soul of Keats in Paradise. The pansy -- there were hundreds of them, hid In the thick grass that folded Shelley's mound, Guarding his ashes with most lovely eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A FAIR BEGGAR by PHILIP AYRES A DEATH IN THE DESERT by ROBERT BROWNING KNOWLEDGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THERE IS NO LOVING AFTER DEATH by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHO HE HAD OFFENDED by ROBERT BURNS THE TOAD-EATER by ROBERT BURNS |