I DREAMED that after wandering long I came To a dark garden with frail souls for flowers; And saw the gentle lady we call Death Pace to and fro; above each bloom she bent, Then passed: a slumbrous sky above her rolled Cloud upon cloud: and from those human flowers A tragic odour like emotion rose. I followed in her steps, and now she touched Some poppy that had been a dreamer frail, Or rose that was a passionate Eastern queen. But on a sudden I implored her hand, And should have fallen: from a lily near What sweet and paining odour to my brain Darted, with delicate, unhappy smell Of trouble old and gladness far away! I knew more surely than from any face, More certainly remembered than at words, And slowly swooning said, "'Tis she! 'tis she!" Then looking to that lady cold, whose face No sternness and no pity had, I said, "Lady, this flower but a little while, O! but a little while, has risen here: Have a deep care of it! a small neglect, A brief oblivion overburdens it. For she, that is this flower, and merely blows So strangely silent and so white, was used To be much loved, and guarded wistfully. O! from this flower be never far away!" But she to whom I spoke moved slowly on, And as I walked beside her, I awoke. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RUSSIAN ARMY GOES INTO BAKU by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER IN HOSPITAL: 21. ROMANCE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY IN HOSPITAL: 3. INTERIOR by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THOSE WHO LOVE by SARA TEASDALE |