HAROLD, on a summer day, Gave me roses for my hair, -- Roses red, and roses white, As if pale with Love's despair. White ones for my brow, he said, Red to blush beside my cheek, -- And a bud to whisper me Something that he dared not speak. Ah, that summer day is over, And its brightness comes not back: Harold's roses something held Other roses seemed to lack. Blossoms bloom along my path Red and white as those were then, -- But the words that Harold spoke I can never hear again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLIND BOY by COLLEY CIBBER TWO AT A FIRESIDE by EDWIN MARKHAM THE CROPPY BOY: (A BALLAD OF '98) by WILLIAM B. MCBURNEY SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON SONNET: 130 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE BUOY-BELL by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER LITTLE JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR; A LAY OF SHERWOOD by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN AT HAWTHORNE'S GRAVE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES THE EMANCIPATION OF HIS MISTRESS' PERFECTIONS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT |