To love her as to-day is so great bliss I needs must think of morrows almost loth, Morrows wherein the flower's unclosing growth Shall make my darling other than she is. The breathing rose excels the bud I wis, Yet bud that will be rose is sweet for both; And by-and-by seems like some later troth Named in the moment of a lover's kiss. Yes, I am jealous, as of one now strange That shall instead of her possess my thought, Of her own self made new by any change, Of her to be by ripening morrows brought. My rose of women under later skies! Yet, ah! my child with the child's trustful eyes! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BACON'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIS MAN by JOHN COTTON (1640-1699) EPITHALAMIUM by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN OVER THE RIVER by NANCY WOODBURY PRIEST BLIGHTERS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON BE STILL, MY SOUL by ARCHILOCHUS A PRAYER FOR THE NEW YEAR by LAURA F. ARMITAGE SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS; A LEGEND OF GERMANY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |