A wisp of wind has drifted petals near, Each one a fragile bit of summer bloom -- Too soon, the hours, like petals, disappear, And Time weaves more upon her golden loom. As carelessly we watch the petals fall, Each one a breath of beauty -- soon to die, So, thoughtlessly, we watch each fleeting hour, Nor value it enough in passing by. No petal gently wafted to the ground, Returns to further beautify a flower, Nor can lost opportunity be found Again. We must await another hour. New petals grow to take the place of old. Time weaves new hours upon her loom of gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HUMBLE-BEE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A FAREWELL by GEORGE GASCOIGNE THE BELLS OF SHANDON by FRANCIS SYLVESTER MAHONY SONNET by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI THE MEMORY OF THE HEART by DANIEL WEBSTER ON SENDING MY SON AS A PRESENT TO DR. SWIFT by MARY BARBER |