The little time of love is all too short; The time of youth, when burning passions glow Like brilliant colored poppies in the morn, Too frail to brave the gentlest winds that blow. Red-petaled flowers steeped in blissful sleep That brings brief dreams exquisitely divine; Such fragile beauty cannot live and feel The chill and shadow of the sun's decline. For love has naught to do with grateful shade; The hybrid flower of friendship may grow there, And hardily with bloom embroider glades, Neighbored by cypress trees and maidenhair. But love, voluptuous love, the sybarite, Sleeps her opium sleep 'neath ambient beams, And wakes to dissolution if a cloud Creeps over the horizon of her dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE TO THE RAIN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE SONG OF THE SHIRT by THOMAS HOOD PROMISES LIKE A PIE-CRUST by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE COW by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON DECEMBER 31ST by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE APPLE-GATHERING by MATHILDE BLIND |