"My Heart," I said (it was a white Spring day, With sweet wild birds adrift among the green)— I said, "My Heart, our flowers are dead and gray, Faint memories of the Summers that have been; So let us from the fields new flowers bring." ... I plucked a rose fresh from the heart of Spring; I wonder why it is less sweet to me Than last year's rose, which is a memory? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING OF WAR: ACTAEON by EZRA POUND THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE REVENGE; A BALLAD OF THE FLEET by ALFRED TENNYSON FAMILIARITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN CARTOONS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION by STIRLING BOWEN A FABLE, FOR HENRICUS D., ESQ., JR by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |