IN father's garden there silently grows A flow'ret mournful and pale; The spring-time returns, the winter's frost goes, Pale flow'ret remaineth as pale. The poor pale flower looks still Like a young bride that's ill. Pale flow'ret gently saith to me -- "Dear brother, pluck me, I pray!" I answer pale flow'ret -- "That must not be, "I never will take thee away. "I seek with anxious care "A purple flow'ret fair." Pale flow'ret saith -- "Seek here, seek there, "Seek e'en till the day of thy death, "But still that purple flow'ret fair "Thou'lt seek in vain," she saith. "But, prythee, pluck me now, I am as ill as thou." Thus whispers pale flow'ret, beseeching me sore; I tremblingly pluck her, and lo! I find my heart suddenly bleeding no more, Mine inward eye brightly doth glow. Mute angel-rapture blest Now fills my wounded breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS THE PILGRIM FATHERS by JOHN PIERPONT ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 71 by PHILIP SIDNEY LACHRYMAE MUSARUM (THE DEATH OF TENNYSON) by WILLIAM WATSON SPRING MORNING by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT THE NAME OF LOVE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PIRATE TREASURE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |