FIRST the fine, faint, dreamy motion Of the tender blood Circling in the veins of children— This is Life, the bud. Next the fresh, advancing beauty Growing from the gloom, Waking eyes and fairer bosom— This is Life, the bloom. Then the pain that follows after, Grievous to be borne, Pricking, steeped in subtle poison— This is Love, the thorn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 112. GIBRALTAR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE HILL WIFE: LONELINESS by ROBERT FROST THE SECRET OF THE SEA by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THREE MOMENTS IN PARIS: 1. ONE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT by MINA LOY HESPERIDES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |