O THRUSH, your song is passing sweet, But never a song that you have sung Is half so sweet as thrushes sang When my dear love and I were young. O Roses, you are sweet and red, Yet not so red nor sweet as were The roses that my mistress loved To bind within her flowing hair. Time filches fragrance from the flower; Time steals the sweetness from the song; Love only scorns the tyrant's power, And with the growing years grows strong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRELIGHT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOW MY HEART SINKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER |