Beauty's pure native gems, ye quivering hairs! Once mingled with my own, While soft desires, ah me! were all the cares Two idle hearts had known. How is it, when I take ye from the shrine Which holds one treasure yet, That ye, now all of Nancy that is mine, Shrink from my fond regret? Ye leaves that droop not with the plant that bore ye, Start ye before my breath? Shrink ye from tender Love who would adore ye, O ye who fear not Death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE SABRE CROSS AND 7 by IRVING BACHELLER THE ROAD MENDERS by LAURENCE BINYON IMPROMPTU ON MRS. RIDDEL'S BIRTHDAY by ROBERT BURNS JOURNAL IN CEPHALONIA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. BY THIS HEART by EDWARD CARPENTER THE BALLAD OF ISKANDER by JAMES ELROY FLECKER THE STREAM OF FAITH by WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT |