IN her hand She takes a rose— A rare rose from the South, Like a little red shut mouth, And the folded leaves unclose. O rose, Poor rose! In her hand She takes my heart— The heart that I thought to keep, And the love I had hid so deep Unfolds, as the rose-leaves part. O heart, Poor heart! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPICUREAN by WILLIAM JAMES LINTON REMEMBERED MUSIC; A FRAGMENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE BELLS OF LONDON by MOTHER GOOSE CITY AND VILLAGE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON SONGS OF MIRZA SCHAFFY, SELECTION by FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT by GIORDANO BRUNO YESTERDAY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON LAY OF THE DESERTED INFLUENZAED by HENRY CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL |