MY briar that smelledst sweet When gentle spring's first heat Ran through thy quiet veins, -- Thou that wouldst injure none, But wouldst be left alone, Alone thou leavest me, and nought of thine remains. What! hath no poet's lyre O'er thee, sweet-breathing briar, Hung fondly, ill or well? And yet methinks with thee A poet's sympathy, Whether in weal or woe, in life or death, might dwell. Hard usage both must bear, Few hands your youth will rear, Few bosoms cherish you; Your tender prime must bleed Ere you are sweet, but freed From life, you then are prized; thus prized are poets too. . . . . . . . . And art thou yet alive? And shall the happy hive Send out her youth to cull Thy sweets of leaf and flower, And spend the sunny hour With thee, and thy faint heart with murmuring music lull? Tell me what tender care, Tell me what pious prayer, Bade thee arise and live. The fondest-favoured bee Shall whisper nought to thee More loving than the song my grateful muse shall give. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY DEARLING by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN LAMENT FOR [THE DEATH OF] THOMAS DAVIS by SAMUEL FERGUSON WHAT OF THE DARKNESS?; TO THE HAPPY DEAD PEOPLE by RICHARD THOMAS LE GALLIENNE THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PERPLEXITY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 92. AL-ZARR by EDWIN ARNOLD AN ANNOTATION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |