Dearest, we are like two flowers Blooming last in a yellowing garden, A purple aster flower and a red one Standing alone in a withered desolation. The garden plants are shattered and seeded, One brittle leaf scrapes against another, Fiddling echoes of a rush of petals. Now only you and I nodding together. Many were with us; they have all faded. Only we are purple and crimson, Only we in the dew-clear mornings, Smarten into color as the sun rises. When I scarcely see you in the fiat moonlight, And later when my cold roots tighten, I am anxious for the morning, I cannot rest in fear of what may happen. You or I ---and I am a coward. Surely frost should take the crimson. Purple is a finer color, Very splendid in isolation. So we nod above the broken Stems of flowers almost rotted. Many mornings there cannot be now For us both. Ah, Dear, I love you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: HOME TO FARGO by KAREN SWENSON CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND [NOVEMBER 19, 1620] by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE JEW'S GIFT; A.D. 1200 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT FONT-GEORGES by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 2 by RICHARD BARNFIELD IN MEMORIAM W.M. & E.B.J. by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |