I BEG the pardon of these flowers For bringing them to one whose hair Alone doth shame, beyond compare, The sweetest blooms of richest bowers. I beg the pardon of this maid For offering them with hand less pure, A heart less perfect, needing cure By Love's own music, softly played. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF AUTUMN by PAUL VERLAINE ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL by JOHN BYROM AT THE SHRINE by RICHARD KENDALL MUNKITTRICK SONNET: 30 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SONNET (3) by CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY LOUIS XV by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) |