THESE roses take, which rival hues invest, They tell how York and Lancaster of yore Their chosen badge to many a conflict bore, When England wept her bravest and her best. That strife is past, in peace those warriors rest; Waste not thy grief their struggles to deplore, Thy pity keep for that which needs it more— The strife now raging in my troubled breast. On thy fair forehead is the white rose shown, Thy lips the fragrance of its leaves impart, Its purity an emblem of thine own; When will that cheek unfold what I am seeking, The blush that tells me of thy yielding heart, The red-rose there love's victory bespeaking? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 74 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE AGNOSTIC by MATHILDE BLIND THE SONG OF THE SOWER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT BALLAD OF PLAGIARY by JAMES BRANCH CABELL BOSTON NURSERY RHYME: RHYME FOR AN ASTRONOMICAL BABY by FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS COOK |