THERE'S a flower with a cup -- A cup of dew; Golden god plucked it up And gave it you. If you shake -- let it spill -- Its pretty rain, All the world will not fill It up again. Careless death it must die, And, like a weed, In the sun ever lie Disherited. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE FAIR SINGER by ANDREW MARVELL ON THE BIRTH OF HIS SON by SU SHIH EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 35. PERSEVERE by PHILIP AYRES PSALM 64 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: DANIEL BARTOLI by ROBERT BROWNING |