A wreath of poppy flowers, With leaves of lotus blended, Is carved on Life's facade of hours, From night to night suspended. Along the columned wall, From birth's low portal starting, It flows, with even rise and fall, To death's dark door of parting. How short each measured arc, How brief the columns' number! The wreath begins and ends in dark, And leads from sleep to slumber. The marble garland seems, With braided leaf and bloom, To deck the palace of our dreams As if it were a tomb. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPLAR FIELD by WILLIAM COWPER INDIAN NAMES by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY THE SHADED WATER by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS REMINDER by INDRAN AMIRTHANAYAGAM THE FIRST SNOW by J. B. BENTON LI HUA'S MESSENGER by PETER BETHANIS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 103. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |