THE sun has kissed the violet sea, And burned the violet to a rose. O Sea! wouldst thou not better be Mere violet still? Who knows? who knows? Well hides the violet in the wood: The dead leaf wrinkles her a hood, And winter's ill is violet's good; But the bold glory of the rose, It quickly comes and quickly goes -- Red petals whirling in white snows, Ah me! The sun has burnt the rose-red sea: The rose is turned to ashes gray. O Sea, O Sea, mightst thou but be The violet thou hast been to-day! The sun is brave, the sun is bright, The sun is lord of love and light; But after him it cometh night. Dim anguish of the lonesome dark! -- Once a girl's body, stiff and stark, Was laid in a tomb without a mark, Ah me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO A THESAURUS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS CURE FOR AFFLICTIONS by ARCHILOCHUS ECHOES OF SPRING: 4 by MATHILDE BLIND |