"See, Sylvia, see this new-blown rose, The image of thy blush, Mark how it smiles upon the bush, And triumphs as it grows! 'Oh, pluck it not! we'll come anon,' Thou say'st. Alas! 'twill then be gone. Now its purple beauty's spread, Soon it will droop and fall, And soon it will not be at all; No fine things draw a length of thread. Then tell me, seems it not to say, 'Come on and crop me whilst you may'?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A LADY SINGING by ISAAC ROSENBERG MERCILES BEAUTE; A TRIPLE ROUNDEL: 1. CAPTIVITY by GEOFFREY CHAUCER TO THE RIVER by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE EBB AND FLOW by EDWARD TAYLOR ONE SHORT HOUR by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH O YOU WHOM I OFTEN AND SILENTLY COME by WALT WHITMAN |