THE rose is fragrant -- yet if she divineth Her own sweet fragrance, if the nightingale Herself feels what round man's soul softly twineth, When echoes her sweet song across the vale, -- I cannot tell. Yet man is with vexation Oft fill'd by truth. If nightingale and rose The feeling only feign'd, the fabrication Would still be useful, we may well suppose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOCKED OUT; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWN SCRIVEYN by GEOFFREY CHAUCER BROWNING AT ASOLO by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON MONT BLANC; LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE HUSBAND'S PETITION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN AT CAMDEN by KATHARINE LEE BATES |