FAIR are the bells of this bright-flowering weed; Nectar and pollen treasuries, where grope Innocent thieves; the Poet lets them ope And bloom, and wither, leaving fruit and seed To ripen; but the Botanist will speed To win the secret of the blossom's hope, And with his cruel knife and microscope Reveal the embryo life, too early freed. Yet the mild Poet can be ruthless too, Crushing the tender leaves to work a spell Of love or fame; the record of the bud He will not seek, but only bids it tell His thoughts, and render up its deepest hue To tinge his verse as with his own heart's blood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GULF by KATHERINE MANSFIELD PROTHALAMION by EDMUND SPENSER A PRELUDE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNET by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, THE LAIRD OF BOGHEAD by ROBERT BURNS EPIGRAM ON MISS DAVIES; LINES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW AT MOFFAT INN by ROBERT BURNS |