DOWN in a garden olden, -- Just where, I do not know, -- A buttercup all golden Chanced near a rose to grow; And every morning early, Before the birds were up, A tiny dewdrop pearly Fell in this little cup. This was the drink of water The rose had every day; But no one yet has caught her While drinking in this way. Surely, it is no treason To say she drinks so yet, For that may be the reason Her lips with dew are wet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IMAGE IN LAVA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS ON A GREEK VASE by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN PLACES: 2. FULL MOON (SANTA BARBARA) by SARA TEASDALE THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE ON FEATHER BEDS by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE BIRD FANCIER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |