Touch Beauty, and she flies; laces of frost, Pale moon-flower and her moth, it is so with these; Handle the whorled white cobweb, it is lost; Apples are fairest hanging on the trees; Touch Beauty and she perishes; no more Will the rose that you have crushed to smell, unclose Her golden heart; and if you should adore Your love too ardently -- Love they say's a Rose! A frail-winged autumn butterfly can break The grape's patina, miraculous scented rime; She who must suffer the wine-press for men's sake Can hardly, as it draws toward vintage time, On her fastidious powdered check sustain The intimate small kisses of the rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHARGE AT SANTIAGO by WILLIAM HAMILTON HAYNE A WOODLAND RHYME by ALEXANDER BROWN INTO CAPTIVITY by ALEXANDER BROWN THE YOUNG QUEEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING NIGHT by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN BLANK MISGIVINGS OF A CREATURE MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED: 8 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |