O BRILLIANT blossoms that strew my way, You are only woodland flowers they say. But, I sometimes think that perchance you are Fragments of some new-fallen star; Or golden lamps for a fairy shrine, Or golden pitchers for fairy wine. Perchance you are, O frail and sweet! Bright anklet-bells from the wild spring's feet, Or the gleaming tears that some fair bride shed Remembering her lost maidenhead. But now, in the memoried dusk you seem The glimmering ghosts of a bygone dream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 26. FIRST LOVE by THOMAS CAMPION VERSES WHY BURNT by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR MY LOST YOUTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE WORLD: A CHILD'S SONG by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS BAYARD TAYLOR by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH STANZAS IN THE MEMORY OF EDWARD QUILLINAN, ESQ. by MATTHEW ARNOLD |