WHAT though the rosebuds from my cheek Have faded all! which once so sleek Spoke youth, and joy, and careless thought. By guilt, or fear, or shame uncaught, My soul, uninjured, still hath youth, Its lively sense attests the truth! Oh! I can wander yet, and taste The beauties of the flowery waste, The nightingale's deep swell can feel Till to the eye a tear doth steal; Rapt! gaze upon the gem-decked night, Or mark the clear moon's gradual flight, Whilst the bright river's rippled wave Repeats the quivering beams she gave. Nor yet does Painting strive in vain To waken from its canvas plain The lofty passions of the mind, Or hint the sentiment refined: To the sweet magic yet I bow, As when youth decked my polished brow. The chisel's lightest touch to trace Through the pure form, or softened grace, Is lent me still; I still admire, And kindle at the Poet's fire -- Why Time! since these are left me still, Of lesser thefts e'en take thy fill. Yes, take all lustre from my eye, And let the blithe carnation fly, My tresses sprinkle o'er with snow, That boasted once their auburn glow, Break the slim form that was adored By him so loved, my wedded lord; But leave me, whilst all these you steal, The mind to taste, the nerve to feel! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOME THOUGHTS FROM FRANCE by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE LEPRECAUN, OR THE FAIRY SHOEMAKER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM MY LITTLE CAPE COD MAIDEN by KATHERINE FINNIGAN ANDERSON HAMPTON TOWN by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN A ROUND by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) DIVINE LOVE; THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC OF TRUE RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |