I BRING a garland for your head, Of blossoms fresh and fair, My own hands wound their white and red To ring about your hair: Here is a lily, here a rose, A warm narcissus that scarce blows, And fairer blossoms no man knows. So crowned and chapleted with flowers, I pray you be not proud; For after brief and summer hours Comes autumn with a shroud; -- Though fragrant as a flower you lie, You and your garland, by-and-by, Will fade and wither up and die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IT JUST SO HAPPENS by JAMES GALVIN IMPELLED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK by AMY LOWELL EPIGRAM: EHEU FUGACES by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM REAR-PORCHES OF AN APARTMENT-BUILDING by MAXWELL BODENHEIM THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS |