My bud was backward to unclose, A pretty baby-queen, Furled petal-tips of creamy rose Caught in a clasp of green. Somehow, I never thought to doubt That when her heart should show She would be coloured in as out, Like the flush of dawn on snow: But yesterday aghast I found. Where last I'd left the bud, Twelve flamy pearls ringed around A heart more red than blood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE STREETS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER BABY'S SHOES by WILLIAM COX BENNETT THE FACE ON THE [BAR-ROOM] FLOOR by HUGH ANTOINE D'ARCY THE RAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE by THOMAS GRAY SA-CA-GA-WE-A; THE INDIAN GIRL WHO GUIDED LEWIS AND CLARK by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 17. THE CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |