THINK you, demoiselle demure, That to be cold is to be pure? Pure is the snow -- till mixed with mire! Ah, but not half so pure as fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER by SIDNEY LANIER THE NIGHT [NICHT] IS NEAR [NIGH] GONE by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE HENRY WARD BEECHER by CHARLES HENRY PHELPS UPON THE IMAGE OF DEATH by ROBERT SOUTHWELL DRINKING ODE by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE |