Rosamond, my Rosamond Of roses is the rose; Her bloom belongs to summer, Nor less in winter glows, When, mossed in furs all cosey, We speed it o'er the snows By ice-bound streams enchanted, While red Arcturus, he A huntsman ever ruddy, Sees a ruddier star by me. O Rosamond, Rose Rosamond, Is yonder Dian's reign? Look, the icicles despond Chill drooping from the fane! But Rosamond, Rose Rosamond, In us, a plighted pair, First makes with flame a bond, -- One purity they share. To feel your cheek like ice, While snug the furs inclose -- This is spousal love's device This is Arctic Paradise, And wooing in the snows! Rosamond, my Rosamond, Rose Rosamond, Moss-Rose! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH FOR LINCOLN by WALT WHITMAN HYMN TO SCIENCE by MARK AKENSIDE RETURN OF THE NATIVE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SONG: NOT A WORD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A THRUSH IN THE MONLIGHT by WITTER BYNNER TO D -. by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. PHILOLAUS TO DIOCLES by EDWARD CARPENTER |