Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way; Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk, Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay. Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem, I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem, But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green. And now I bent me o'er thy wither'd bloom, And drop the tear -- as Fancy, at my side, Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb -- 'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride! Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARMAID AND THE ALEXANDRITE by KAREN SWENSON A BIRTHDAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER CHRISTMAS CAROL by SARA TEASDALE GREAT FRIEND by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 5. THE CHANGELING by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TO MYRTILLA OF NEW YORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MIANTOWONA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 89. THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |