GO, rose, my Chloe's bosom grace. How happy should I prove, Might I supply that envied place With never-fading love! There, Phoenix-like, beneath her eye, Involved in fragrance, burn and die. Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find More fragrant roses there, I see thy withering head reclined With envy and despair; One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELF-REJECTED by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE PILLAR OF FAME by ROBERT HERRICK SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ANNE RUTLEDGE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ETUDE REALISTE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE LUCY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |