(TO A. P.) O ROYAL Rose! the Roman dress'd His feast with thee; thy petals press'd Augustan brows; thine odour fine, Mix'd with the three-times-mingled wine, Lent the long Thracian draught its zest. What marvel then, if host and guest, By Song, by Joy, by Thee caress'd, Half-trembled on the half-divine, O royal Rose! And yet -- and yet -- I love thee best In our old gardens of the West, Whether about my thatch thou twine, Or Hers, that brown-eyed maid of mine, Who lulls thee on her lawny breast, O royal Rose! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROMETHEUS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1725 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE FOUR ZOAS: THE SONG OF LOS by WILLIAM BLAKE DEVIL'S GOLD (A HAMPTON LEGEND) by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN VERSES FOR A NOBLE EARL'S PICTURE by ROBERT BURNS |