My Flower you would haply call a weed, Beneath a tree so sad and dark it grows; A little Flower which would fade indeed, Beside a spring-time lily or a rose. I love my Flower, which all others shun, Because its life hath known no light or sun. My Flower, hidden where the dark leaves part, I love because it is so like my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE, PARAPHRASED: THE CUP by ANACREON THE FLOWER OF FINAE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: SCANDERBERG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SAINT BRIDE'S LULLABY by WILLIAM SHARP PAN IN WALL STREET by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN LINES WRITTEN IN LADY'S ALBUM OF DIFFERENT-COLOURED PAPER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO MY FRIEND MR. THOMAS FLATMAN, ON THE PUBLISHING OF THESE HIS POEMS by FRANCIS BARNARD (D. 1698) |