SWEET sisterhood of flowers, Ye tell of happier hours, Eloquent eyes, soft hands, and beaming brow; Ye were a gift from one Best loved beneath the sun, And ye must bring me memories of her now. Thou rare red Picotine! Seemed she not like a queen, Gloriously proud, nor beautiful the less, When what I whispered low Made the red blushes show, For shame to hear of her own loveliness? Thou dost remind me well, Down-looking heather-bell, How she looked downward in that lonely spot, And to my earnest prayer Tremblingly gave me there This star of lover's hope -- "Forget-me-Not." Sweet Rose! thy crimson leaves Are little happy thieves! She kissed thee, and her lips are mine alone: Now by that blessed day I'll wear thy leaves away, Kissing the kiss till kissing-place be gone. Beautiful, bright-winged Pea! Ah! but I envied thee, Plucked by her hand, and on her bosom lying. Oh! it were happy death There to sigh out the breath; Never to die, and yet be still a-dying. White lily of the vale! I fear thou saw'st a tale Told without words, when none but thou went nigh: Keep faith, sweet bud of snow! None but ourselves must know -- Thou and the Evening Star, and She, and I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAITH AND DESPONDENCY by EMILY JANE BRONTE LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY A SUMMER NIGHT by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL AUBADE [OR, A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN], FR. CYMBELINE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SALOME by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE LORD SPEAKS by KARLE WILSON BAKER |