Her delicate form scarce dimples in the bed Where she all night has lain. She is as frail and fragrant as a flower After an April rain. I wish I had not pictured her a flower -- A flower is but a sigh Of wonderment at beauty that so soon Expends itself to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER TACT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON I HAVE PRAYED by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS A ROW IN AN OMNIBUS BOX; A LEGEND OF THE HAYMARKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 34. FAIRY LAND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE AWAKENING OF THE TREES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |