A GLEAMING pearl lay on the strand, It seemed a beauteous one; Yet when I grasped it in my hand, 'T was but a pebble-stone. I plucked a crimson rose so fair, Fragrant as a spring morn: When on my breast I sought to wear The flow'r, 't was but a thorn. A heart, too, once was sent to me, -- I thought it glowed with love; But, bound to mine eternally, No ice could colder prove. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMFORT [TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE] by ROBERT HERRICK CALLER HERRIN' by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE ON LAYING THE CORNER-STONE OF THE BUNKER HILL MOMUMENT by JOHN PIERPONT A HYMN WRITTEN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ALEXANDER POPE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 21. REQUIEM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON BALLADE OF EGREGIOUSNESS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TIPPERARY: 1. BY OUR OWN JAMES OPPENHEIM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 6. TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQ., WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU by MARK AKENSIDE |