WHERE do purple bubbles swim But upon the goblet's brim? Drink not deep, howe'er it glow, Sparkles never lie below. Beautiful the light that flows From the rich leaves of the rose; Keep it, -- then ask, where hath fled Summer's gift of morning red? Earth's fair are her fleeting things; Heaven, too, lends her angel's wings. What can charms to pleasure give, Such as being fugitive? Thus with love: oh! never try Further than a blush or sigh; Blush gone with the clouds that share it, Sigh pass'd with the winds that bear it. BUT met she then young VIDAL'S eye, His half sad, half reproachful sigh: His ISABELLE! and could she be Votaress of inconstancy? As if repentant of her words, Blushing she bent her o'er the chords; With fainter tones the harp then rung, As thus, with bow'd down head, she sung. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HAUNTED PALACE by EDGAR ALLAN POE IMPROMPTU TO LADY WINCHILSEA by ALEXANDER POPE AT THE CARNIVAL by ANNE SPENCER THE VIAL by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE SONNET by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIRST ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) ARISTOPHANES' APOLOGY; BEING THE LAST ADVENTURE OF BALAUSTION: PART 1 by ROBERT BROWNING |