Were you to blame, Child Love, That as they came So merrily across the fields, A wild-rose-laden limb, Teased her to pluck the flower it yields For him? Did you then pull, Boy Love, Your small hand full Of petals, dropping one by one O'er your palm's crumpled rim, Until you left the husk alone For him? What a prank you played, Fie Love! Another maid Laughed out, "Wilt thou my sweet bud have?" And, then, was it your whim? Plucked out the stem the first girl gave To him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NOCTURNAL UPON ST. LUCY'S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY by JOHN DONNE THE STARLIGHT NIGHT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: DEDICATION TO HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BASSE VINCENT VAN GOGH by HARRIET R. BEAN |