OH! the blooming cheek of beauty, tho' it's full of many a peril, Where's the miner doesn't love it? for he thinks he knows the girl, While the bloomer! Oh! the bloomer! of emancipated She, May it bloom and promptly wither every seventh century. Oh! the early bloom of blossom on the apple tree in June, Is there mortal having seen it, can forget the picture soon? And the wine of red October where Falernian juices flow, I have sipped the blooming beaker (in the ages long ago!). Oh! the bloom along the hill-side, shining bright among the trees, When the banners of the autumn are flung out to every breeze, How it blazes -- how it sparkles, and then shivers at a breath: What is it when all is spoken but the awful bloom of death! Oh! I've watched the rose's petals, and beheld the summer sun Dipping down behind Olympus, when the great day's work was done; But to-day I'm weary, weary, and the bloom I long to see, Is the bloom upon the cobalt -- that's the only bloom for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMP-MEETING SUNDAY AT OCEAN GROVE by ETHEL LYNN BEERS THE HARVEST by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE WIFE OF BATH'S TALE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER AUNT CHLOE'S LULLABY by DANIEL WEBSTER DAVIS |