IN the South is Love's land, Where the roses blow, Where the Summer lingers Fearless of the snow. There no Winter chills it, So its life is long, -- Gentle breezes fan it, Age but makes it strong. "Nay, fresh roses wither Where the sun is hot, -- Not in torrid regions Blooms Forget-me-not. Love's a tender blossom Which the Winter chills, But the eager Summer Kisses it, and kills." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAT LADY by HAYDEN CARRUTH EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON OF OCHILTREE by ROBERT BURNS TOM MOONEY by WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND SOLILOQUIES OF A SMALL-TOWN TAXI-DRIVER: ON THE EMOTIONS by EDGAR BARRATT |