ALL day with bright, appealing face, Upon my study table, A red, red rose asked me to give What gods were quite unable — Asked me to give it back again Into the garden's keeping, Where winds were low and there their tears The nightingales were weeping. Till eve I drank its wine perfume — My soul the nectar needed; Alas, how impotent was I To do the thing it pleaded; I could but drink, and drinking know I was its endless debtor — For who can pay the soul that heals His soul and breaks his fetter? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 2. OFF ALGIERS by SARA TEASDALE THE TENTH MUSE: THE VANITY OF ALL WORLDLY THINGS by ANNE BRADSTREET THE STORY OF AUGUSTUS WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP by HEINRICH HOFFMANN CENTENNIAL HYMN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE COCK, AND THE JEWEL by AESOP THE NIGHTINGALE THAT WAS DROWNED by PHILIP AYRES DREAM ENCONTERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |