AH! you thoughtless cruel boy, 'Tis all your pleasure to destroy; Fairer was my blushing rose, Than any fragrant flower that blows. Already, lo ! it droops and dies, And all its lovely crimson flies. 'Twas I who breathed the sweet perfume, I shed the rich luxuriant bloom; And when the bud in embryo lay, I chased the nipping blight away. 'Twas I the silken texture spun: Now my work is all undone; And now I mourn my fairest flower, The glory of my summer bower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MORTAL COMBAT by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE ICHABOD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER VILLANELLE: AU RETOUR DU PRINTEMPS by PHILIP SCHUYLER ALLEN THE SHEPHERD'S CONTENT by RICHARD BARNFIELD PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |