SWEET lady, let your lids unclose, -- Those lids by maiden dreams caressed; I am the phantom of the rose You wore last night upon your breast. Like pearls upon my petals lay The weeping fountain's silver tears, Ere in the glittering array You bore me proudly 'mid your peers. O lady, 't was for you I died -- Yet have I come and will I stay; My rosy phantom by your side Will linger till the break of day. Yet fear not, lady; nought claim I -- Nor mass, nor hymn, nor funeral prayer; My soul is but a perfumed sigh, Which pure from Paradise I bear. My death is as my life was -- sweet; Who would not die as I have done? A fate like mine who would not meet, Your bosom fair to lie upon? A poet on my sentient tomb Engraved this legend with a kiss: "Here lies a rose of fairest bloom; E'en kings are jealous of its bliss." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON REVELRY OF THE DYING by BARTHOLOMEW DOWLING MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN ON THE DEATH OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN by PHILIP FRENEAU THE WOMAN AND THE ANGEL by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE PENITENTIAL PSALM: 130. DE PROFUNDIS by THOMAS WYATT ON CYNTHIA, SINGING A RECITATIVE PIECE OF MUSIC by PHILIP AYRES |