HERE in this wrecked storm-wasted garden-close The grave of infinite generations fled Of flowers that now lay lustreless and dead, As the gray dust of Eden's earliest rose. What bloom is this, whose classical beauty glows Radiantly chaste, with the mild splendor shed Round a Greek virgin's poised and perfect head, By Phidias wrought 'twixt rapture and repose? Mark the sweet lines whose matchless ovals curl Above the fragile stem's half shrinking grace, And say if this pure hyacinth doth not seem (Touched by enchantments of an antique dream) A flower no more, but the low drooping face Of some love-laden, fair Athenian girl? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMMORTALITY by EMILY DICKINSON BARNEY'S INVITATION by PHILIP FRENEAU TO -- OCCASIONED BY HIS POEM ON THE SUN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD NEWS OF THE WORLD: 2 by GEORGE BARKER AN INVECTIVE AGAINST THE WORLD, SELECTION by NICHOLAS BRETON |