Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses-- In festive garment from you I would go! The windows open till the light reposes Upon my bed--the starlight's smiling glow. And music! While your songs are still enthralling, And one by one the parting cup you drink, Then I would have my curtain slowly falling, As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLIGHTERS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE IVORY GATE; THRENODY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE LAST MAN: INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE WORLD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IN MEMORY OF AGOSTINO ISOLA, OF CAMBRIDGE, WHO DIED 1797 by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS ZERO by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A WESTERN WASTE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND by MARY DOW BRINE |