My love is red as oleander, And whiter than the rose, And pure as never was such candour In any flower that grows, And fresh and sweet as never was The sweetness of azaleas. If I might lie beside the bed Where all such shrubs do sprout, And round my heart and soul and head Their virtues wreathe about, Methinks the songs that thence would spring Were meeter for my love to sing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO MATTER WHAT, AFTER ALL, AND THAT BEAUTIFUL WORD SO by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPOKEN AT A CASTLE GATE by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1839) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |