NOR on beds of fading flowers, Shedding soon their gaudy pride, Nor with swains in syren bowers, Will true pleasure long reside: On awful virtue's hill sublime Enthroned sits th' immortal fair; Who wins her height must patient climb: The steps are peril, toil, and care: So, from the first, did Jove ordain Eternal bliss for transient pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEMANTICS OF FLOWERS ON MEMORIAL DAY by BOB HICOK GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHEN I RISE UP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR |