Oh, cut me reeds to blow upon, Or gather me a star, But leave the sultry passion-flowers Growing where they are. I fear their sombre yellow deeps, Their whirling fringe of black, And he who gives a passion-flower Always asks it back. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH AT DAYBREAK by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH THE HAPPY NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP AYRES TWELVE SONNETS: 3. THE VALLEY ROSES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) WOONE SMILE MWORE by WILLIAM BARNES PAN IN PANDEMONIUM by BERTON BRALEY MYSTERY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE VOICE OF THE UNBORN by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR TO THE COUNTESS OF ANGLESEY UPON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND by THOMAS CAREW |