A BAGATELLE! Ah, Mistress Prue, So gaily laughing all life through, You call it that, the flower you fling Lightly aside, the song you sing, The fan, the glove no longer new. But to your careless eyes of blue A bow, a heart that's fond and true, Is, like your glove, that worthless thing— A bagatelle. While I who prize your glove, your shoe, The rose that o'er your lips you drew, Hold worthless spring's fresh blossoming, Hold worthless life's whole offering, Because my love is but to you A bagatelle. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE COMING OF WISDOM WITH TIME by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A HILLSIDE THAW by ROBERT FROST ENGLAND AND AMERICA: 1. ON A RHINE STEAMER by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN TREES AND WAVES by AL-ISRA'ILI |