IN my nostrils the summer wind Blows the exquisite scent of the rose: O for the golden, golden wind, Breaking the buds as it goes! Breaking the buds and bending the grass, And spilling the scent of the rose. O wind of the summer morn, Tearing the petals in twain, Wafting the fragrant soul Of the rose through valley and plain, I would you could tear my heart to-day And scatter its nameless pain! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON READING -- . by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE STRANGE MEETING by WILFRED OWEN THE BLESSED DAMOZEL by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A CAMEO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE MAN FRAIL AND GOD ETERNAL by ISAAC WATTS EPIGRAM ON AN OLD LADY WHO HAD SOME CURIOUS NOTIONS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |