HAROLD, on a summer day, Gave me roses for my hair, -- Roses red, and roses white, As if pale with Love's despair. White ones for my brow, he said, Red to blush beside my cheek, -- And a bud to whisper me Something that he dared not speak. Ah, that summer day is over, And its brightness comes not back: Harold's roses something held Other roses seemed to lack. Blossoms bloom along my path Red and white as those were then, -- But the words that Harold spoke I can never hear again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROSARY by ROBERT CAMERON ROGERS THE EAGLE AND THE MOLE by ELINOR WYLIE THE LATE STAND-TO by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 10 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MY SON'S SON TO HIS SON'S SON - PERHAPS by MABEL RUTHERFORD BRIDGES THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: MISANTHROPOS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TO WILLIAM JEFFREYS, CHAPLAINE TO THE LORD AMBASSADOUR IN SPAINE by MICHAEL DRAYTON |