THOUGH fate upon this faded flower His withering hand has laid, Its odour'd breath defies his power, Its sweets are undecayed. And thus, although thy warbled strains No longer wildly thrill, The memory of the song remains, Its soul is with me still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VASHTI by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER IN A COPY OF OMAR KHAYYAM by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE FIRST DANDELION by WALT WHITMAN IN THE VANGUARD by ALEXANDER ANDERSON APOLLO AND DAPHNE by PHILIP AYRES ON MISS HELEN FAUCIT'S JULIET by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |