SAINTS are like roses when they flush rarest, Saints are like lilies when they bloom fairest, Saints are like violets sweetest of their kind: Bear in mind This to-day. Then tomorrow: All like roses rarer than the rarest, All like lilies fairer than the fairest, All like violets sweeter than we know. Be it so. To-morrow blots out sorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF JOHN KEATS' DEATH by SARA TEASDALE TO MRS. THRALE [ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR] by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE by JOHN KEATS TO A SINGING BIRD by PHILIP AYRES FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SLEEPER'S COUNTENANCE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES UNEASY PEACE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 106. THE SUBLIME: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |