"See, Sylvia, see this new-blown rose, The image of thy blush, Mark how it smiles upon the bush, And triumphs as it grows! 'Oh, pluck it not! we'll come anon,' Thou say'st. Alas! 'twill then be gone. Now its purple beauty's spread, Soon it will droop and fall, And soon it will not be at all; No fine things draw a length of thread. Then tell me, seems it not to say, 'Come on and crop me whilst you may'?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: 7. THE MEASURE OF BEAUTY by THOMAS CAMPION THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK: FIT 3. THE BAKER'S TALE by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE HUMBLE-BEE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON HYMN TO ADVERSITY by THOMAS GRAY THE SHADOW DANCE by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON SHADOWS by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR |