A ROSE to smell a moment, then to leave, Chance strain of song you smile at as you pass, Bubble that breaks before you lip the glass, Chain frail as the frail thread that spiders weave; Oh, do not think that I myself deceive! Thus, and not otherwise, to you am I, -- A moment's pleasure as you pass me by, Powerless, at best, to make you joy or grieve. And you, to me, my sun-god and my sun, Who warmed my heart to life with careless ray! Forever will that burning memory stay And warm me in the grave when life is done: -- What farther grace has any woman won? Since your chance gift you cannot take away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAN IN THE MOON by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY AGAMEMNON: WELCOME TO AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS BE DRUNK by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE ANCRE AT HAMEL: AFTERWARDS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE CITY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |