SWEET, serene, sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower: From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head. New-startled blush of Flora! The grief of pale Aurora, Who will contest no more, Haste, haste, to strow her floor. Vermilion ball that's given From lip to lip in heaven; Love's couch's coverled, Haste, haste, to make her bed. Dear offspring of pleas'd Venus And jolly plump Silenus, Haste, haste, to deck the hair Of th' only sweetly fair. See! rosy is her bower, Her floor is all this flower, Her bed a rosy nest By a bed of roses press'd. But early as she dresses, Why fly you her bright tresses? Ah! I have found I fear: Because her cheeks are near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 2 by CONRAD AIKEN THE RETURN (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUTH'S PROGENY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE NEW APOCRYPHA: THE FIG TREE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RUSSIAN ARMY GOES INTO BAKU by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER |