OH tropic Love, to thee we bring The flora of delight That childish fingers pluck, and fling From out the infinite! Through her inevitable sleep, Would wistful Memory yield The fragile things she may not keep, To star thy deathless field. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE UNKNOWN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FREE FANTASIA ON JAPANESE THEMES by AMY LOWELL MOTHER JUNKIE by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |