PHYLLIS took a red rose from the tangles of her hair (Time, the Golden Age; the place, Arcadia, anywhere). Phyllis laughed, the saucy jade, "Sir Shepherd, wilt have this Or" (Bashful god of skipping lambs and oaten reeds!) "a kiss?" Bethink thee, gentle Corydon! A rose lasts all night long, A kiss but slips from off your lips like a robin's evening-song. A kiss that goes where no one knows! A rose, a crimson rose! Corydon made his choice and took -- Well, which do you suppose? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUSE by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH THE NEED OF BEING VERSED IN COUNTRY THINGS by ROBERT FROST ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A FRIEND by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |