TELL me, perverse young year! Why is the morn so drear? Is there no flower to twine? Away, thou churl, away! 'Tis Rose's natal day, Reserve thy frowns for mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ST. FRANCIS EINSTEIN OF THE DAFFODILS (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ARABELLA STUART by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE COMMONPLACE by WALT WHITMAN LILIES: 11. 'I NEED THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MY UPPER SHELVES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON CHANCE AND CHANGE by THOMAS CAMPION |