Here's a posy of poor faded flowers, that I keep As jealously guarded as gems in a heap, For in their dead relics the fragrance I find Of a hand that for me deigned the blossoms to bind. And, when mem'ry floats back on the stream of the past, And I think of the days too enchanting to last, On these roses, that nought but Time's hand shall profane, Love's halo of gold will for ever remain. Poor flow'rets! How often the tears from my eyes, Like dewdrops, unheeded, have watered your dyes; Alas! your bright crimson can never return, But still in your leaves the dear past I discern. Sleep here, on my heart! and my lips' latest breath Shall touch you caressingly even in death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN TO THE ROCK THAT WILL BE A CORNERSTONE OF THE HOUSE by ROBINSON JEFFERS A BIT OF SKY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: GEORGE JOSLIN ON LA MENKEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |